Interoffice Stereotypes
by J. Maria
Summary: What do you do when you have nothing, and have to live day to day? You do things you aren't proud of, like working for those stupid Muggleloving Weasels.Millicent centric fic. AU post OotP
1. She Crushes Beer Cans On Her Forehead

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: Pg-13 to R

Spoilers: Set three years after book seven

Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student.

Summary: What do you do when you have nothing, and have to live day to day? You do things you aren't proud of, like working for those stupid Muggle-loving Weasels.

A/N: Ok, my second non-crossover of the Potter persuasion. I know, it's not a common character, but I like it, so there (blame Coming For You, it made me like Millicent. And _yes_, it's Millicent Bulstrode. I like her so there) And yes, I realize that made me sound like a five year old.

**__**

Interoffice Stereotypes

She Crushes Beer Cans On Her Forehead

She'd been to nearly every shop, pub, inn, and restaurant in Diagon Alley, Godric's Hollow, and Hogsmeade for the past two weeks trying to find a job. The off season, and Quidditch Union Strike wasn't helping her pay the bills, and Gringotts was not exactly happy with her. Her father's debt, solicitors fees, and her mother's monthly allowance was quickly eating at her finances. She huffed angrily as she stared at the _last_ shop she wanted to enter, and the _only_ shop hiring.

The door chime quacked as she opened it. Gold and Scarlet covered the walls and the products were lined up rather neatly in their bins along the wall. A red-head popped his shaggy haired head through the door behind the counter. A grin crossed his face as he yanked off the protective dragon-hide gloves on his hands.

"Hullo, did you need some assistance Miss?"

"Actually, I'm here about a job." She replied, trying to keep her tone level.

"Than you're just in luck. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes is hiring." His grin got wider as he pulled an application out from beneath the counter. "What's your name?"

"Millicent. Millicent Bulstrode."

The quill faltered, just like it did at every other shop that had been eager to hire her. Nobody wanted to hire the daughter of a _known_ and _convicted_ Death Eater. Even if she was a pro Quidditch player, even though, she herself had never been a Death Eater. Even though she'd _fought_ on the _right_ side in the war.

"Never mind, let me guess. I'm not the 'right' person for the job. Or I'm not qualifed to count money? Or is it that you just can't hire my sort of people?" She snapped. "Forget it. I was thick enough to try." She turned to leave before he could even respond. In fact, her hand was on the door when she heard him call out to her. "Don't you want to finish filling out the application, Bulstrode?"

"Are you serious?" She turned back.

"No one else wants to apply. Apparently, we're in a dangerous trade to get into." Weasley grinned.

Fred Weasley had been working on perfecting the newest line of Wheezes when he heard the chime quack the arrival of a new customer. George was out with Alicia, probably tucked up in their flat doing unspeakable things to each other. He grinned as he saw the young woman standing in the doorway, appraising his establishment.

She wasn't horrible to look at. In fact, she was pretty good looking. _Down boy_, he told himself. Her long dark brown hair hung loosely over her shoulders, a dark outer robe covered a knee length black skirt and a beige blouse. Square-toed black heels finished off the ensemble.

When she told him she was Millicent Bulstrode, the Slytherin girl who once put Hermione in a headlock. His pen faltered as it sunk in. Maybe _some_ Slytherin's weren't all evil or smarmy looking. Millicent had actually aged _well_. Granted, last time he'd purposely set eyes on her had been in his seventh year and he actually hadn't been looking.

"I can only work in the Quidditch off season." She said cautiously.

"I heard you played. What team?" He asked, pushing the application closer to her.

"Falmouth Falcons." She took up the quill, confusion on her face.

"Beater then?"

"What?" She seemed shocked.

"Defensive hold."

"Excuse me?"

"You hold yourself defensively, as if expecting a bludger to come slamming into your face." Fred said simply. "Beater for six years, comes with the territory."

"That and I was the reserve for four years at Hogwarts, until Crabbe and Goyle got themselves hand picked fifth year." She said, signing and dating it, half not believing that she was talking easily to a Weasley. "But then, Quidditch really didn't matter anymore, everyone was concerned with the war my seventh year."

"And both Crabbe and Goyle were in Azkaban by then." Fred snickered.

"Yeah." She straightened her shoulders. "So, do I even have a chance or was this all set up to rub it in my face?"

"Ah, you wound me." Fred joked. "Well, give me a day to talk it over with my brother, and I'll get back with you."

"Wha- um, right." She swallowed. With that, she turned and left the store.

Fred scribbled out a quick note and sent it off to George. He had a new clerk for their store.

Millicent walked stiffly down Diagon Alley. Has Weasley _actually _offered her a job? Had she stooped so low as to - no, _that_ kind of thinking had made her abandon her dreams of playing Quidditch for so long. She barely noticed when she ran into someone.

"You stupid cow, watch - Millie?" A voice shrieked. Millicent cringed. She hated that nickname and she didn't have particularly cozy feelings for the owner of the voice.

"Pansy."

"Whatever were you doing down _there_?" She tipped her head disdainfully toward Weasley's shop.

The war may be over, and Pansy's side had lost, but there were still boundaries, and a good pureblood girl didn't break them. Clearly going to that shop was on top of the list. But it was a list Millicent was feeling very giving toward today.

"Applying for a job."

"A - job?" Ah, the another top no-no. Good girls don't work, they have underlings who do absolutely everything, with the exception of bearing an heir, or at least an heiress.

"Yes, it's how one is able to pay for the luxuries in life, or even the necessities of life, Parkinson." Millicent muttered.

"It's - just - the Weasels? How could you, Millie?"

"Because, _Pans_, they're the only ones willing to _hire_ me."

"Well, more respectable shops would hire you if you gave up that hare-brained Quidditch club. No one's going to hire a _girl_ athlete." Pansy sneered disdainfully, which made Millicent ready to strangle the annoying twit.

"No one's got a problem with the Quidditch bit about me, it's the stamp of the Death Eater on my father's forearm that has them all concerned." Millicent said pointedly. "I know your Daddy got off with five years imprisonment, Pans, but my father was kissed in battle on top of that life sentence. So forgive me if I have to lower myself to work to feed my mother and myself. It's either work for Weasley or prostitute myself, and you'd know an awful lot about that, wouldn't you, Pans."

"Well, we all know you wouldn't have made _much _you'd tried to prostitute yourself."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't do it for free, or for baubles." Millicent pushed past her, "Oh, nice necklace, Pans. Was it Nott, Flint or Malfoy who gave you that?"

"Pardon me?"

"Well, they are your best clients, aren't they?"

With that, she disapparated home. Well, her mother's home. Millicent had a tiny flat up in Falmouth that she shared with one of the team's chasers, Portia Edgerton. Portia lived there all year, but Millicent only shared with her during the season. Portia worked in the local pub and had tried to get Millicent a job, but with the strike in full swing, there were no jobs to be had. The townspeople who worked at the Pitch had quickly latched onto any openings.

Millicent had barely stepped into the family room when her mother's pitiful shrieks could be heard. She rolled her eyes and sighed. It would be today that she'd run into Parkinson. Today, of all days.

"Millicent! You stupid, wicked girl! We've been waiting all this time, and you didn't even bother to call! No, you were to busy hanging about with that dreadful Hyacinth Parkinson's girl! Oh, do you like to see your poor, widowed mother all alone? Do you like to see me suffer?" She bawled, banging a withered fist against her bony chest, her dark black hair shaking as her head jerked back and forth.

"No, mother. I don't. And I told you I was going -"

"Lies, all of it! Isn't it enough that I let you play your silly little games?" Her dark blue eyes glinted fiercely at her only child.

"Mother, I was in Diagon Alley on business." She sighed. There was no point in her trying to explain it. Instead, she turned to her mother's guest and gave a genuine smile. "Hello, Blaise. What did we do to gain your attention?" She asked.

"Nothing, Mil. This is just a casual meeting." But she saw his eyes skitter toward her mother, and she knew that it wasn't. "I was quite put off that my favorite girl wasn't here to greet me, however."

"Yes, well, had someone told us you'd be dropping by, I would have been here with bells on, Blaise." She forced her smile to widen. It was one of their things. They'd been friends since before Hogwarts, and both had abandoned many of their housemates in the final battle, choosing to save their own hides instead of saving Voldemort's. They had an unspoken pact, made late in their fourth year. Neither had been interested in the candidates their fathers had chosen for them, so they pretended to be an item, to save each other. She knew it was really Blaise saving her from Crabbe, but he never admitted that he would have preferred one of the other Slytherin girls over her.

"Mrs. Bulstrode, may I steal Millicent away for a little while?" He gave her mother his dashing smile that never failed to work on the woman.

"Of course, and I shan't be peeking around corners. There is that lovely little gazebo out in the garden. It's the perfect environment to speak of, shall we say, delicate matters?" Her mother was about as subtle as a flashing neon light.

"Thank you my dear Mrs. Bulstrode. Mil?"

Her mother's face brightened considerably. Blaise was as good a catch as she could hope for to marry Millicent. Malfoy had disgraced his family by falling for Weasley in their seventh year, Theodore Nott was far too much for her to even be hoping for, and Crabbe and Goyle had been sloppy and were incarcerated. An older man would have sufficed, but they were much more inclined towards the prettier girls. Blaise Zabini was nearly perfect. He was a well-off solicitor, dashing, and still retained much of his family's fortune, which was more than could be said of those other boys.

Too bad he'd never marry her. Blaise fostered a crush on one of his co-workers, the much praised Padma Patil. He was using Millicent as a front to make Padma jealous enough to say something and to keep his parents and Pansy Parkinson off his back.

As they made their way through the gardens, Millicent became more and more nervous. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.

"So, what's wrong?"

"You're mother's still in hearing range."

"Mother's deaf in one ear from when the chandelier fell onto the piano and Pipsy, her pet poodle five years ago. She can't hear past the first row of rose bushes."

"All right. It's bad, Mil."

"What is it now?"

"Besides the fact that you're living in a home you can't afford, you have no job to pay taxes on it, or the few squib servants you have to compliment your aging house elves Mindy and Morc, and the fact that your one source of income is on strike? Nothing really."

"Except for the debts my family owes for the upkeep of my clinically brain dead father in Azkaban, and my solicitor's fees."

"My fees are the last thing you need to be worrying about. In fact, it's the last thing you're going to pay off."

"Well, there's a silver lining, Blaise."

"What?"

"I might have a job."

"As what?" He asked curiously. He knew how hard it was to get a job carrying the stigma of their families around their neck like an albatross.

"Shop girl."

"For what shop, and please tell me it's not located down Knockturn Alley."

"No, it's in Diagon proper."

"What is it, then?"

"Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"What!"

Halfway across the country, George Weasley was having much of the same reaction to his brother's hastily penned note. Alicia didn't quite appreciate the sentiment either, but that was for a wholly different reason.

A/N 2: Ok, what do you think? Believable, or not? Likeable or not? Reviewable or not? 


	2. She Rps Chicken Heads Right Off The Chic...

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating Pg-13 to R

Spoilers: Set three years past book 7

Summary:

A/N: Ok, with my brain currently not letting me continue on with my older fics, a slew of newer fics popped up (this being one of them). This fic was started to basically get the Millicent out of my system (she's in a crossover I'm writing and whenever I go to write about the other characters, all I end up channeling is Millicent, so for the sake of that fic and my sanity, this popped up) So, here comes part two. And the chapter titles (cause I realize they are confusing) have pretty much nothing to do with the actual chapter and more with the theme.

Did I mention I worked retail this summer? I did and it is hell. Did I mention I worked in _toys_? Even hell-ier than regular retail. Thus there will be certain demonizing of retail, as there should be.

I never do this normally, I usually just work the questions out in the story for the readers - Millicent's father (cuz I'm too lazy to give him a name) was Kissed by a Dementor in the last battle (if they were gonna turn on Fudge, something tells me they would have turned on Voldemort just as easily). They were going for whoever was closest.

__

She Rips Chicken Heads Right Off The Chickens

"Are you out of your mind? Work for the Weasleys?" Blaise shouted.

"Oh, stuff it, Zabini. Do you think I want Mother to hear?" Millicent glared. If Blaise was taking it this badly, she didn't even want to consider how her mother would take it. "What do you want me to do, Blaise? I've a contract with the QPU, and another with Falmouth. I can't go to one of the European teams because they're full of all the minor players who haven't got contracts. Mother still shops like we've got the Bulstrode Family fortune behind us, when we're lucky to have a handful of galleons in the Gringotts account. Father's pension was severed, and my savings add up to diddily and squat." She huffed. "It's the Weasleys or prostitution, and we both know I wouldn't make very much in that field."

Blaise knew he wouldn't be able to change her mind. Millicent was incredibly stubborn when it came to certain subjects. Quidditch was one of them, and oddly enough, not breaking her mother's heart was another. Millicent chose to be loyal to only certain people, and when she was, it was to the bitter end. Marcus Flint, himself, and her mother were the only three who had gained either her respect or loyalty since Blaise had known her.

"Mil, they could turn you into a canary." He said softly.

"It's not as if I signed up to be their bloody guinea pig! I signed up for sales clerk. As is counting the till, very carefully putting out the stock, changing the window display. I'm not stupid, Blaise." She sighed, the angry glare leaving her eyes. "I know what I'm getting myself into here."

"Mishaps can happen, Mil. Remember what happened to Montague our fifth year?" Blaise reminded her.

"Yeah, I remember. He was gone for three and a half weeks, storming about the common room about how he was going to murder them. It's hard not to remember when he chucked a glass vase at my head." She glared at Blaise, "Or I should say your head. You ducked out of the way, if I recall."

"I simply asked him if he'd had a nice time on his trip." Blaise said innocently.

"And you're assuming they'll even hire me. Just because Weasley let me fill out the application doesn't mean I have the job, you know." She was tired.

But Blaise didn't say anything. He thought without a doubt that she'd get the job. Blaise knew that one of the twins' girlfriends were on the teams affected by the Quidditch Strike, so they could sympathize with her need. But why they would extend that sympathy to a former Slytherin was beyond his understanding. There was a very distinct stigma that lingered on you if you were of that house. A slight prejudice still reigned over the Wizarding population. He hoped for her sake, that this wasn't the cruel joke he and apparently she had the feeling it was.

"Are you out of your gourd, brother of mine?" George shouted as he apparated in.

"Forge, did you -" Fred started before he was cut off by his twin.

"Hiring a Slytherin to work in our shop? Did she threaten you? I know she was a formidable looking girl back in our school days but -"

"Did you know, George, that you are wearing only your boxers?" Fred couldn't help but laughing at his brother. "I imagine Alicia's not the least bit happy."

"No, she's bloody well not!" Alicia cried, apparating in as well, but fully clothed, with George's clothes in hand. "I shouldn't even give these to you, you prat."

"She probably got him in a proper headlock and made him give her an application."

"George, get dressed and be quiet." Alicia rolled her eyes.

"She never came past the counter. And I should be rather offended that you think I can't handle a little girl. Honestly."

"Little girl?" Alicia scoffed, and Fred knew he was in for it.

"I meant woman, Al." He started.

"You know, it's thinking that that gives witches a bad rap. She can't hurt me because I'm a big man and she's just a little girl. I -"

"That's exactly my point, Fred. She was as tall as Ron our Seventh year. She could really hurt you." George protested, mostly to get Alicia to stop her ranting.

"She's a Quidditch player, George."

That shut him right up. Alicia's team, Puddlemere United, was also on strike. The entire British league was on strike. Everyone knew that. George especially, seeing as Alicia paced around their flat. He wasn't going to win this argument any time soon.

"Besides, people just don't want to work for us. I think Ginny let it slip that we turned Lee into a giant singing Gerbil."

"Well, is she qualified?" Alicia asked.

"Better question, can she count up to ten while keeping her shoes on?" George demanded. He never did see Alicia's hand coming.

Blaise left the Bulstrode home the way he normally did, by sneaking out through the garden rather than saying good-bye to Mrs. Bulstrode. Millicent had once told him that if they ever return from the garden together, her mother would believe they were betrothed. He was thinking of returning to his offices in Diagon, but headed for the shops instead. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Alicia! Quit it!"

"Quit it? I ought to hit you harder!"

"By all means, do hit him harder, I'm sure it would knock some sense in him." Blaise said coolly from the doorway. The three people crowded around the counter turned to face him. He recognized the twins easily enough, and of course, had heard one of them yell at Alicia. "Weasleys. Miss Spinnet."

"Who are you?" The shorter haired twin demanded.

"Blaise Zabini."

"Slytherin. Fantastic." He rolled his eyes. "Whadda ya want?"

"One of you offered Millicent Bulstrode a job today. As her solicitor, I wish to know if it was a genuine offer." Blaise locked his eyes on Fred, taking in the way his spine straightened and his face seemed to harden a bit.

"Yeah, it was a genuine offer. Are you saying she didn't believe me?" Fred asked.

"If that's not the most ass backwards way of thinking I ever heard. A Slytherin questioning a Gryffindor's word." George shook his head in disbelief.

"Mil has had several jobs pulled out from beneath her feet because of who she is, what house she was in, and who her father was."

"I meant it seriously." Fred relaxed slightly. "It's just me and George running the shop and he and Ally are about to get married. I need someone to mind the shop while I make more product. Millicent said she needed the job, and she's been the only one to apply."

"If anything were to happen to Millicent while in your establishment . . . " Blaise didn't even bother finishing the threat. Weasley knew where he stood, and let him guess what would befall him should something happen to Millicent. He nodded to Alicia before making his way out of their building.

George stood there, staring in shock at his brother and his fiancee.

"Did he just threaten us?" He whirled about to face his brother. "And did we just hire her?"

"Yeah, he did, and yeah, Fred did." Alicia smiled softly. "That man must really love her."

"What?" Fred asked, snapping to attention.

"No guy would pop in and casually threaten someone if he didn't genuinely care for the person. I think it's rather sweet for him to be so protective of her. 'Specially since he is a Slytherin and all."

"Wait a minute, weren't you just the one rallying for Witches rights not five minutes ago?" George snapped.

"Doesn't mean I can't have a romantic side as well, you great big idiot!" Alicia smacked him lightly.

Millicent made her way into the house. Her mother was waiting anxiously at the door, and her shoulders drooped significantly when she saw that her daughter was alone again.

"Wherever is that boy now?"

"He had work, Mother. He could only stay for a short while."

"Hmm." Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Hyacinth Parkinson flooed me this afternoon. Said you were quite rude to her daughter in Diagon Alley this morning. Said you called her a trollop."

"No, I called her a prostitute. And then I insinuated that her necklace was payment for her services." Millicent sighed, while her mother's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Good for you, Millie. Now, did Blaise pop the question?"

"No, Mother, he didn't. He told me that he heard about what I'd said to Pansy." Millicent lied. "Said he was quite proud of me as well."

"I always knew that boy was clever." She sighed as an unfamiliar owl swooped towards them. "Merlin, what is that?"

Millicent opened the parchment quickly, and pulled out the letter. Her jaw dropped considerably when she read what it said. Scrawled inside the letter were three lines.

__

Can you start tomorrow?

Ten A.M?

-F. Weasley.

A/N: Ok, shorter than the last chapter, but oh well.


	3. Her Last Three Boyfriends Were Never Hea...

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: PG-13 to R

Spoilers: Set three years post Book seven

Disclaimer: Do you think JK would do something like this to her characters? No, but I would.

Summary: Things just got a little scarier . . .

A/N: I'm really glad people like the story. Friday, I got it into my head to work on my three stories that start with the letter I when my classes were done for the day. (I have three stories that start with the letter I). 3 am rolled around (I spent my night at Motown Mania making six bucks and a wax hand) and the one that was mostly finished was IS. So all in all a good night, because I got a chapter and cash out of it. Oh, and as a side note: my 'Witches Rights' Alicia is very much based on my Women's Studies class, and I felt that someone ought to represent, and who better than Alicia?

__

Her Last Three Boyfriends Were Never Heard From Again

Before Millicent could hide the letter, it was out of her hand and being read by her mother. It was too late for her to snatch it back, seeing as the stupid letter was all of three lines, and her mother had already finished it. In fact, her mother's hand was shaking so hard that Millicent didn't think she had a chance in hell of wresting it away from her.

"What is the meaning of this, Millicent?" She shrieked. "Who is this F. Weasley - and it better be a very good explanation, my girl."

"I got a job, mother." Millicent couldn't think of anything else to say. Of all the things to say, that wasn't the smartest choice.

"A Job? Bulstrode women -"

"Mother, I -" She was halfway to telling the truth, but stopped. "I'm too cooped up here without Quidditch to distract me. I figured this would be the best way to work off my energy. The Weasleys own a shop, and offered me a job. Blaise and I were speaking about this in the garden. He thinks it would be good for me." Seeing her mother relax noticeably gave her a chance to breathe.

"Well, if Blaise thinks it's all right, then I suppose it can't be too bad." She handed the letter back to Millicent, her eyes becoming bright and hopeful once more. "Blaise is such a good boy for you, Millie."

"Yes, Mother."

As soon as her mother was out of her sight, Millicent quickly scratched out a reply and attached it to the owl.

Apollo flew into the shop not an hour after Fred had sent him with the note to Millicent. The owl looked rather frazzled, which was his normal look. He poked at Fred sharply, before tearing the missive off his own leg and flew to his perch. Fred gave him an odd look. He opened the letter and almost laughed.

__

Owl me at home again, and I will break every bone in your body.

Ten A.M. is perfect.

See you then.

-M. Bulstrode

She certainly didn't need Zabini to threaten them for her. She could do her own threatening, and be far more effective than him any day.

It was a fairly bright morning in Diagon proper. Millicent had rushed out after breakfast and scribbled a note to her mother, telling her she'd be back later. If she hadn't, then her mother would have sent howler after howler at her for not waking up at eleven, and not waiting for her.

She wasn't quite sure how to dress. It was a joke shop, but she figured jogging pants and a tee weren't appropriate, but neither was a business suit. She finally settled on a knee length skirt, and a blouse. Millicent was nervous, and uncertain, and completely frazzled. She spotted Blaise's office out of the corner of her eye and made a hasty decision to sprint over there. Once behind the safety of the door, she felt herself give a nervous twitter.

"May I help you?" A shorter woman with long black hair, and caramel colored skin asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for Blaise Zabini. Is he in yet?" Millicent gave her most charming smile, confident that the woman was who she thought she was. The sudden flash in the woman's eyes convinced her.

"His office is at the end of the hall." Padma Patil replied stiffly.

"Thank you." Millicent murmured.

She made her way down the hall, her nerves coming back full force. She knocked on the door, her hands shaking. Blaise yanked open the door, looking as if he were ready to yell.

"Mil? What's wrong?" He asked, his face going suddenly neutral.

"Nothing, but I think I need to sit down." She whispered.

"All right, come in." The second the door was closed behind her, she sank into the green chair behind his desk.

"I have the strongest urge to vomit." She smiled weakly.

"Why? Millicent Bulstrode, I have never seen you - ok, I have but that was when you were incredibly pissed. What's wrong, Mil?" He walked around the desk, taking her shaky hands in his.

"I start work today. At the Weasleys' shop." She gave another nervous giggle. "I - damn, I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?"

"Bloody hell, yes I'm nervous! This is a very - odd feeling and, I was stupid for even thinking about working for them." She sighed. She didn't like feeling this way. She was normally steady and ready to face anything. But this - this wasn't something she could just deal with.

"Mil, you can do it. You're not stupid - you were three points behind Granger, queen of the know-it-alls in our graduating class. You learned hexes faster than Nott, and he was the king of hexes in school. You've finagled your mother into believing your simply a good girl, and by association, anything you say to the woman drips with honey. You can manage two Weasleys, especially those idiots. They didn't even finish out their seventh year, Mil." Blaise narrowed his eyes. "They should be shaking in fear of you."

"Like half the boys in our year did?" She snorted.

"You can do this Mil." Blaise sighed.

"Yeah, I can. It's just, that moron owled my house. Mother grabbed the letter and -" She clenched her fist. Blaise knew that it was her way of expressing most of her feelings. Better clench than cry, she'd say every time he made a passing comment about it.

"Look, -" The door burst open.

They both looked up at the man in the doorway. His eyebrows furrowed for a minute, as if he were confused by what he saw. But he was soon distracted by the woman that followed him.

"You can't just bust in there, Padma said the git was in a meeting, Flint." The blond crossed her arms.

"Bell, do you ever shut the hell up?"

"Flint, do you ever grow up, you smeg head?"

"Do either of you two know how to knock?" Blaise snapped roughly.

"Well that's a nice how-do-you-do, Zabini. We're you're best clients, you know and -" Katie Bell started, shoving past Marcus Flint. She stopped abruptly when she saw Millicent in his chair. A mischievous grin crept over her face. "We interrupting somethin' here, Zabini?"

"Yes, a meeting with my best client." Blaise stood. "What trouble have you two gotten yourselves into now?"

"Us? Trouble? Why, I'm insulted, Blaise." Katie mocked.

"You alright, Bulstrode?" Flint asked, making his way around Katie.

"Yeah, first day jitters is all. I start working today."

"You found a place to hire you?"

"Yeah, but it'd be a hell of a lot better if you two idiots got you're acts together and got the Britain Quidditch teams playing again." Millicent glared at them.

"Oi, it's not just Chuddly and Falmouth who're to blame, Puddlemere and Holyhead put up a fuss as well." Flint grunted.

"Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. are just as much to blame as we are." Katie sighed. "That's what we're here to talk about." She gave a small, apologetic smile to Millicent.

"I have to be off anyway. Weasley's expecting me at ten."

"Weasley? I thought Ron was off in Greece with 'Mione?" Katie asked.

"I'm not meeting that Weasley."

"Then which one are you meeting, Bulstrode?"

"The twins."

"The twins? Those idiotic buggers who -"

"Hey, no Gryffindor bashing, Flint." Bell smacked him firmly on the arm.

"I'm the new sales clerk at their shop." Millicent said, rising from Blaise's chair.

"What?" Katie asked. The room was deathly quiet.

"They were the only ones willing to hire me." She said calmly, but Blaise saw her fists clench. Flint noticed it too, and met Blaise's eyes.

"Well, smack my ass and call me randy." Katie quickly held up a hand at Flint. "You do it, and you'll never get shagged again." She warned. "Gred and Forge are decent chaps. Plus, Ally'll kick their arses if they don't respect a girl properly."

"I think they'll be more worried that she'll kick their arses, then of that toothpick Spinnet doing them harm." Flint snorted.

"Oh really? I'll have to get Ally to come and kick your arse."

"She's a chaser, what damage -"

"Don't give me that 'what can a chaser do to me', 'cos then I'll remind you of last Tuesday when I knocked your smarmy ass off your broom." Katie countered.

"Mil's a beater. She beats things with a big stick for a living. Spinnet hurls quaffles at a big hoop. There's a bit more finesse involved with a bludger."

"You do realize you just put your position down, you big idiot?" Katie said smugly.

"Good-bye." Millicent said as she was halfway out the door.

"Good luck, Mil!" Katie called over her shoulder.

Millicent waited until she was outside again to unclench her fists. Sometimes, she wished she wasn't friends with those people. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the Weasleys' shop.

"So, why in the hell is Millicent working there?" Flint demanded the minute he was sure she was out of the building.

"To earn money. As far as I know, that is the only way to _make_ money." Blaise replied dismissively.

"As much as I love people ripping into Flint's intelligence, and I do appreciate your biting sarcasm, Zabini - why is she working for them?" Katie asked.

"For some reason, your dear former housemates hired her when no one else would." Blaise ground out. "Now, about this contract that Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. wants to push through -"

"What do you mean, no one else would? Mil's not dumb." Katie protested.

"Yeah, but that's not why nobody'll hire her, Katie." Flint sighed.

"Why not? It's not because she's a woman - " Flint could see her getting all riled up.

"It's because her father's rotting away in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. And because she was a Slytherin."

"But that's stupid. Basing your judgment of a person on the house they were in at school, or who their father was." Katie said disgustedly.

"About the contract?" Blaise started again, hoping to keep them on track.

"Can be tossed in the rubbish bin, far as I'm concerned." Katie sighed. "Pure rot, saying we shouldn't be allowed to play against each other if we're married, or that married witches shouldn't play unless they sign a contract saying they won't get knocked up. Holyhead's been a pure witch team for hundreds of years, and even they wouldn't come up with something that daft."

Millicent squared her shoulders and reached for the door handle. She twisted it her hand. The door didn't budge. She looked down at it, utterly and totally perplexed. She tried again.

It took her four more tries before she realized the door was locked. Feeling like the world's biggest idiot, she pounded on the door.

Anger at herself and at the stupid door burned away her nerves. It was soon replaced by anger at the stupid git sitting inside.

What kind of idiot puts up the welcome sign but leaves the door locked?

Fred was in the back room, half asleep in running pants and a ratted old tee. His hand was poised over the lukewarm cup of coffee he'd made. His other hand was furiously writing down the formula for the new and improved Farting Filibusters. He was so enthralled by his work that he didn't hear the pounding on the door.

But he did hear the loud bang of the door as it splintered apart. His hand landed heavily on the mug, jerking it forward. Warm coffee splashed onto his chest and lap. Yelling, he jumped back, grasping for the mug. It didn't survive the encounter, and shattered as it hit the floor.

Cursing rather loudly, he yanked his wand off the table and slammed the door leading to the showroom.

"What in the bleeding hell-"

"What kind of moron puts the -"

Fred jumped back for a second. He hadn't forgotten that she was starting today. No, he hadn't.

"- Come on In sign up but forgets to unlock the door?" She finished ranting. Millicent blinked a few times. "Is that what you normally wear to work?" She demanded.

A/N: Gah. This chapter didn't go were I originally planned for it to go but it kept my mind off of being sick.


	4. She Sucks The Lives Out Of Little Childr...

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine, but a girl can dream can't she?

Summary: What not to do on your first day.

A/N: Ok, have I said how much I adore this fic yet? Cuz I do. Anyway, Katie and Marcus made a surprise arrival in my fic and yes, they are married, but they are also the representatives of the Players of Quidditch (P.o.Q.) Anyhoo, I wasn't going to have them (or Katie) in there at all - but they are so they are. I might have to (after I finish this fic) write about how they hook up. I'm glad that people like this fic as much as I like writing it.

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She Sucks The Lives Out Of Little Children And Poodles

Fred tried not to stare at her like a idiot, but it was kind of hard not to. Who dressed like that to work at a joke shop? Heels and pearls? But then it sunk into his sleep addled head.

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Besides the fact that it's soaked, has more holes than a fish net, and that they look as if they haven't been laundered in three weeks?" She snorted.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're supposed to suck up to the boss, and not insult him on your first day?" Fred retorted.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

"Spilled coffee on myself when someone busted the door in."

"Was it hot?"

"No, thank Merlin." He muttered a quick cleaning spell and turned to face the smashed in door. "Couldn't use an opening spell, could you?" He was shocked that she blushed in embarrassment.

"I was too angry."

"Why?"

"I spent the last twenty minutes in the company of Mr. Flint and Mrs. Bell."

"Twenty minutes? You poor thing." Fred rolled his eyes. "What were they arguing about now? Let me guess - Quidditch?"

"Quidditch." She muttered a repair charm on the door and turned to face him. "I'm gonna ask you two questions, and you'll be straightforward and answer me."

"Go ahead."

"One, is that _really_ what you wear when you're in the shop?"  
"Comfortable clothes, you mean?"  
"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Millicent gave a huge sigh and muttered something under her breath. Fred watched in amazement as her skirt turned into a pair of muggle jeans and her long blouse into a tee and jumper, her heels a pair of trainers.

"And question number two?"

"Which twin are you?"

"Fred."

"So you're the moron who owled my house." She said crossly.  
"Apparently that wasn't a good thing."

"No, it wasn't. My mother saw it." She said simply.

"And that's bad because . . ."

"My mother doesn't know why I need this job."

"Your mother has no clue that there's a Quidditch strike?" Fred was confused.

"No my mother has no clue that we're - " She stopped herself. It was one thing for Blaise to know that they were broke, but it was another to tell Weasley. So she said the first thing that came into her head. "My mother thinks my father died in the battle. She thinks she's a widow, when her husband is still alive. He's alive, but he's a vegetable."

"And as a rule, the families of those who were kissed have to foot the bill for their care." Fred finished. "Malfoy told Gin."

"Malfoy probably whined it at her." Millicent snorted.

"I take it you're not a big fan of his?"

"Not in the slightest."

"I think we're gonna get on fabulously, Bulstrode." Fred grinned at her.

"If I don't end up killing you in the process." Millicent rolled her eyes.

"Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

The grand tour took all of ten minutes. He showed her the stock room that doubled as a break room, his office and lab. Next he showed her where the loo was, and then back to the counter. He was showing her how the register worked when the door quacked.

"Boys, I need you to help me -" A plump red-haired woman called from the doorway. Fred dashed about the counter. "Oh, I'm sorry dear, I didn't see you." She said to Millicent. "I thought I'd bring you and your brother some lunch. Where is your brother, Fred?"

"Out with Ally, shopping for Wedding robes."

Millicent tuned out majority of their conversation. She stared down at the register, going over in her head what he'd showed her. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear the woman say something to her.

"Pardon?" Millicent asked.

"I asked if you'd like some of this food. Fred here will - " The woman stopped to rephrase her sentence. "He'll be able to eat it all, but then he'll be of no use for the rest of the day."

"That would be something new?" The words were out of Millicent's mouth before she could stop them. What was up with this rash of verbal diarrhea that she seemed to be plagued with recently?

But the woman just laughed her head off, and Fred gave the woman a sour look. He handed the food over to Millicent.

"Oh, dear I haven't had a chuckle like that in ages." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm Molly Weasley, Fred's mum." She extended a hand to Millicent.

"Millicent Bulstrode." She said. She half expected the woman to yank her hand back, but all she got was a shocked 'oh'. "I'll go run these things back to - yeah."

Molly Weasley spun around to face her son. Then she smacked him roughly on the arm.

"You couldn't warn me?"

"Mum, what are you on about?" Fred demanded, shying away from her next smack.

"I - Oh, never mind."

"No, tell me."

"I - well, I may have frozen her father in the last battle." Molly said quietly. "And everyone knows what happened to Gerald Bulstrode."

"Mum, I don't think that's -"

"When did you meet Millicent?" Molly changed the subject quickly. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"When she came in about a job yesterday. And we're not seeing each other. I'm her boss, she's my employee." But Fred could see the matchmaker gleam in her eye. "Dear merciful Merlin, woman, you've already got two of you kids married and three more on the way."

"Well -" But she stopped as soon as Millicent came back into the room. "I best be off, Ally and George will be stopping by the Burrow for tea after their fittings. It was nice to meet you, Millicent."

"Yes." Millicent gave her a nod.

"Fred, be sure to come by for Sunday brunch. Percy's going to be there."

"Oh joy." Fred rolled his eyes.

"Oh, hush." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to leave.

Molly Weasley gave her that look again. Millicent's hand clenched. The woman had practically yanked her hand back when she heard Millicent's name. It had never occurred to her that people who fought so adamantly against everything Voldemort had stood for, would be just as prejudiced as his followers were against muggle born people.

"Mum said the food'll keep for a few hours, nothing that'll spoil."

"Yeah."

"I guess we better run you through the inventory."

"Yeah."

Millicent tried to keep everything straight. They made a lot of products, and some of them were easy to confuse. He quizzed her a few times on where things were located. He was still quizzing her when the door quacked again.

"Well, somebody worked real damn hard to get you out of your clothes, Mil." Katie grinned at her.

"What happened to her clothes?" A voice boomed.

"Bloody hell, nothing, Flint!" Millicent boomed right back. "You're not my bleedin' father. And I'm dressed perfectly acceptable to work in a joke shop."

"Yeah, Flint." Katie jabbed him in the side. "I mean, if there's anyone here who's dressed inappropriately, it's the Twin here." She poked a finger in the hole near his stomach. "When I can poke my finger through, it's a tell-tale sign to throw the damn thing out."

"Oi, get yer hand outta my shirt. Flint, keep a leash on this one will you?" Fred jumped back from Katie's tickling finger.

"Missus, I'll not so kindly ask you to keep your fingers out of Weasley's shirt."

"Can I put them in Mil's then?" Katie asked. She waggled her fingers at the other girl.

"No!" Millicent shouted. Her wish from that morning was turning into a prayer to any god who was listening.

"Anyway, we just came here to see our girl in the working environment." She gave a fake sob, "Oh Markie, our ickle Millikins is all growed up."

"Please quit." Marcus glared at her.

"Spoil _all_ my fun why don't you. Anyway, we stopped in to tell you that there's a P.o.Q. meeting this week, down at the Ministry, and that reps from Q.U.A.B.B.L.E and Q.P.U will be there. If you want to come to it. The more female players we get there, the more we'll be able to squash these damn idiotic amendments they're trying to get into the standard contracts."

"That and some of us came to threaten Weasley."

"What?" Millicent cried. She was sure Fred would have said the same thing, but he only sighed.

"Zabini already threatened us, Flint. And Millicent did too."

"Zabini did _what_?" She shrieked.

"'Course, she's more threatening than you two combined. . ." Fred continued, ignoring the seething woman.

"For Seven bleeding years, you gits told me not to be intimidated by anyone, to be the intimidating one, and now that we don't have to worry about those kinds of things, you great big idiots think I've reverted to a poor defenseless - " She all but snarled. "I'm going on my break, that ok with you?" She snapped at Fred.

"Wha - yeah."

"I'll deal with you later." She narrowed her eyes at Flint.

With that, she popped out of the shop. Katie's face broke out into a huge grin.

"Blaise better run for cover. Too bad there's not enough time to warn him."

"She's become demented since she married you." Fred said to Flint.

"No, she just hid it better when she was in school."

"I'm just saying, you lot have to be a lot less protective of her." Katie sighed. "You can't change a lifetime of work in three years." She turned to face Fred. Katie squared her shoulders. "Seriously though, Gred. You put one toe out of line, we'll all sit back and cheer her on as she kicks you and that brother of yours into the ground."

"Nice to know everyone's on my side." Fred muttered.

A/N2: Ok, last time Katie and Marcus are in this for a while. Up next, the confrontation, and Mil actually gets some work done.


	5. Trust Me, Her Bite’s Worse Than ANYBODY’...

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: Pg-13 - R

Spoilers: Generic books 1-5, set three years after book 7

Disclaimer: Dear god I wished I owned them, but sadly JK does (and she treats most of them worse than I do)

Summary: Kickin' ass is my line of work - or is normally.

A/N: Okie-dokie, some 'splainin. Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. I got from the HP Lexicon, I do however own P.o.Q. and Q.P.U. It stands for Quidditch Union for the Administration and Betterment of the British League and its Endeavors. I made up two separate organizations for the players - one that would have been started by the actual players (P.o.Q) and one started by Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. for the teams in general. In my head P.o.Q. is headed by Falmouth and Chudley (which are Marcus and Katie's teams and are being pressured because of their marriage) and Puddlemere and Holyhead (you'll see later why them). Another thing - After the war, there were a lot of people going to Azkaban, and the Ministry thought that it was fitting that the families of Death eaters should have to pay for their actions - having them pay for the care of their Kissed parents, significant others, and so on. So Millicent has to pay for her Father's upkeep in Azkaban. Ok, time to get Blaise. (I should not be so eager for this, but alas I am)

Oh, and a big thank you to my lovely reviewers who take the time to tell me what they like about this story. It's very close to my own heart and I'm glad you all enjoy it as much as I do writing it.

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Trust Me, Her Bite's Worse Than ANYBODY'S Bark

Millicent yanked the door open roughly. She was gonna kill that bleedin' interfering wanker. Slowly, and very painfully. The gall of that moron to actually threaten her employer when she could do it herself. How she was going to enjoy ripping him to shreds.

She stormed past an irritated Padma Patil. She half thought that the woman was irritated at Blaise, which really wouldn't be a shocker. When Padma set eyes on her, they noticeably widened. Millicent took that opening.

"He still in there?" She barked.

"What - yes, but -"

"Thanks." She slammed the door open, her eyes blazing as they landed on the man of the hour. "Zabini, you great big smeg head." She rounded on him, stomping around the table and getting directly into his face. "You've absolutely no _right_ to threaten _my_ employer with bodily harm! I can't believe you even got the idiotic notion in that supposedly _brilliant_ mind of yours! I can threaten him well enough. I don't need some he-man to come to my bleedin' rescue!" She yanked him down to her eye level. "Do I look like I'm some stupid, idiotic girlie-girl who'll faint at the first sight of something disagreeable? I'm not some -"

"Are we interrupting something, Zabini?" A voice asked from the doorway. Millicent nearly snarled until she noticed whom she was facing exactly.

At least a dozen reps from Q.U.A.B.B.L.E. stared at her in complete and utter shock. Bloody hell. She reluctantly let go of Blaise's robes.

"We're not finished Zabini." She hissed.

"I would never presume such a thing." He said sweetly, rubbing at his collar.

"Yeah, well, we'll get to what you've been presuming instead _later_." She glared at him.

And as she made her way past the group, she could have sworn she heard someone identify her by name. Perfect, now word would spread that she was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe that would get this blasted strike over and done with then.

Padma was at the door when she went to leave. She gave Millicent a fairly odd and sort of jealous look. With her hand on the doorknob, she called back.

"He gets off on that sort of thing, you know." She grinned lazily over her shoulder at Padma. "Likes to be dominated, you see. It'll have him squirming all afternoon."

At the other woman's shocked gasp, Millicent nearly burst into laughter. Oh, it was wicked of her, but deliciously so. She strolled down the street, quite pleased with her self and actually more relaxed than she'd been all day. Life was wonderfully random like that some days.

Her relaxation wore off exactly ten seconds after she set foot back inside Weasley's shop. Two of her least favorite people in the world stood at the counter speaking with her employer.

"Honestly, Fred, do you think it's -" Hermione Granger, soon to be hyphenated Weasley was saying.

"Hey, Mil. Did you totally annihilate Zabini already?" Fred perked up noticeably, quite relieved to not be stuck listening to Granger's endless lectures. He glanced at a odd looking clock on the wall.

"On several different levels of his life. Best time ever." She said neutrally. "I'm done with my break. Weasley, Granger."

"Hullo, Millicent." Hermione said stiffly.

"Flint couldn't stay, had to be off. He and Bell are to argue some more points of the payment issues in the Contracts, said he'd be back for his tongue lashing." Fred grinned. "It's actually nice to know the woman who scares the shit out of Flint."

"Fred Weasley -"

"He's a grown man, Granger. He can swear all he wants." Millicent rolled her eyes at the look Granger gave her. "You said we'd hit inventory next, Weasley?" She asked.

"Yeah, 'scuse us, but we've got jobs to attend to. Right this way, Ms. Bulstrode." Fred grinned. "I'll see you two on Sunday then?"

"Yeah." Ron replied, completely taken aback.

Once in the safety of the back room, Fred burst out laughing. Millicent waited not so patiently for him to finish.

"Oh, I suppose I should thank you." Millicent said glumly.

"Thank me? For what, you just saved me another hour long lecture from my soon to be sister in law." Fred snorted.

"For earlier." When all she got was a confused look, she groaned. "Look, this isn't exactly easy for me to say."

"What isn't?"

"A thank you. For - for saying that I don't need those two idiots who think they're my bleedin' keepers to defend my honor. That I can kick ass all by my lonesome."

"Well, to be honest, you're the only one of the three who actually said they'd deliver bodily harm. Zabini made a vague threat, and Flint just glared." Fred sighed. This girl wasn't so bad to know, once you got to know her. "Why do you hate 'Mione so much?" He asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Well, she was your main target in school."

"Grades."

"Huh?"

"She always got three more points than me in nearly every subject we had together. The only other real competition was Padma Patil, but she was a point behind me. Those three points cost me the title of Head Girl. Aside from Quidditch, that was the only thing I wanted to - " She said heavily, examining one of the crates in the corner. "Are you always this talkative?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I've had someone filling in the rest of my sentences for nearly twenty-five years. This conversation stuff's not so bad when you don't know the people like my twin and I do." Fred plopped himself down in one of the chairs. "C'mon. Lunch break."

"What?"

"Lunch break. Shop normally gets really busy right after lunch, so I figure it's best to get lunch done with first, and jump right on in to the rest of what you need to learn before the rush hits."

"All right. I guess I'll -" She made to leave.

"Nope, you're eating with me. Mum said you had to, and I _always_ do as my mum says." Fred grinned mischievously.

"How do I know you haven't slipped something into it?" She said warily.

"When would I have had the time? 'Sides my mum prepared it." When Millicent looked at him like that wouldn't cut it, he was confused. "My mum wouldn't do anything to it."

"Were you even here when she met me?" Millicent demanded. "You're mother jerked her hand back like I had the plague, Weasley. Apparently, not everybody's as over the whole war like you are. In fact, you seem to be about the only one."

"What?"

"Well, let's just say that -"

"No, this is _what_ I'm going to say." Fred said harshly. Millicent stepped back without even realizing she had. "My mother is not that kind of person. If she were, she would have been on _His_ side through the war. So you are going to sit down and enjoy the food she made, because she's actually a very good cook."

Millicent glared at him for a minute. He raised an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms. Fred walked around her and opened the first container of food. She couldn't deny that it smelled awfully tempting. She was so absorbed by the scent that she didn't even notice that Fred had wrapped his arms around her and _yanked_ her into one of the chairs. Her fist popped up, catching him hard on the shoulder. He groaned, dropping her unceremoniously on the chair.

She rubbed her backside and groaned as he winced from her hit. She glared harder at him than she remembered doing so in a very long.

"You pack quite a wallop."

"You do realize that was one of the _stupidest_ things you could have ever done."

"I'm thinking it wasn't my brightest moment." He gave her a grin. "But hey, it got you to the table, now didn't it? Dig in."

Millicent's mouth dropped open. Before she could think of anything to say, her stomach answered for her.

"See, even your stomach agrees with me." He said, scooping out a healthy some odd looking - what was that? He grinned up at her. "Mum got the recipe a few months ago, oddly enough, it's pretty good."

"What is _that_?" Curiosity got the better of her.

"Taco salad. All of us got together to spring a trip for Mum and Dad for their anniversary. Dad wanted to go to London, Mom wanted to see Hollywood. They settled on Vegas. Mum got the recipe, and well - " He took a big bite of his. "Makes Dad get a bag of these muggles tortilla chips that taste like nachos cheese." He finished, his mouth full of the red colored food.

"Ugh."

"Go on, try some."

Millicent brought a tiny bit up to her lips, prepared to spit it into her napkin like she often had when her mother prepared her special lemon bunt cake. Special because it was burnt beyond recognition and tasted like charcoal rather than lemon. This however, did not taste all that bad. As she reached down for another forkful, she caught him grinning stupidly at her.

"You tell anyone I did this, I'll do more than bruise your shoulder." She glared.

"Oh my."

"What?"

"I think I rather like it when you're angry." He grinned.

"Pardon me?" The fork hovered near her lips.

"Your face pops out of that mask you've got strapped to it, and the real deal emerges."

"Was that supposed to make sense - because I'm not seeing the sanity in that statement -"

"But then you probably only drop it when you're on the pitch." He said, pouring them each a mug of Butterbeer. "Southwest style chicken?" He asked, dumping a large chicken breast onto her plate.

"Knock it off - and what are you talking about?" She was trying hard to make sense out of what he was saying, but finally gave it up.

"You know, I think you might have given Forge and myself a hell of a time, had Flint not been such a git and actually played you." He swallowed. "You'd have won more than you lost."

"Wasn't Flint who wouldn't play me. Malfoy and the others baulked at the idea of a girl playin' for the house team." The words were out of her mouth before she realized that she said it rather bitterly.

"Granted, I've never seen you play, so you might _actually_ be hopeless on the Pitch."

She stared at him for a second, catching the laughter in his eyes. She could not believe it.

"You are actually goading me."

"Yep, I actually am."

"You obviously have a death wish then."

"Ah, but then who would pay you?"

"George."

"Nah, he wouldn't."

"Not at first, but then Katie'd convince him it was an act of kindness."

"Paying you?"

"Getting rid of you." She wiped her hands on her napkin.

The door quacked and she found herself rushed out behind the counter serving greedy little grubby faced children. She was regretting this job more and more.

"Closing time." The clock screeched promptly at six thirty. Millicent jumped a bit.

"All right, you all heard the clock. Bring your final purchases to the counter please." She hollered.

She was met with a chorus of groans and a barrage of customers. Fred made a unusual appearance, ushering the stragglers out and watching her. With the last customer, Fred slammed the door shut and flipped the sign.

"Think you'll live?"

"I hate retail." She groaned, rubbing her back.

"Well, alas we're not done."

"Door's closed." She narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, but the owl orders just came in and -" Before Fred could finish, the door slammed open with a shout of "Alohomara!"

A seething Blaise Zabini stood in the doorway. His eyes were narrowed angrily as they landed on Millicent. He stormed past Fred who was giving Millicent a look of his own.

"_He_ got past the lock with out resorting to _killing_ the door."

"Yes, well I was angry." She grinned at Zabini. "Have a good day, Blaise?"

"You told Patil I had a thing for being dominated." He spat. "That -"

"Was just payback for you _threatening_ my boss -"

"Which she's quite capable of, I assure you." Fred rubbed his shoulder.

"Shut up, Weasel." They both snapped.

"That was low, Mil." He got right up to her, toe to toe.

"And so were you." She took a step forward. Fred saw her hand yank back, and the next thing he saw was Zabini on the floor, out cold.

"Thought you already got your payback?" Fred stared down at Zabini.

"Oh, I did. That was for fun." She made her way over to the back room. "You comin, Weasel? We've got orders to fill."

Fred slammed the door shut and locked again. He looked down at Zabini and chuckled as he made his way to the back room.

A/N 2: Ok . . .yeah. I couldn't think of what to have them eat, and well, my mom made Taco salad at home a week ago and I love it, but sadly didn't get any. I'm not bitter, no.


	6. Whatever You Do, Don’t Tell Her She Scar...

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating Pg-13 to R

Spoilers: All the books, set three years after book seven.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, JK does.

Summary: Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Hell I go.

A/N: It's hard to predict what people are gonna like when you set out writing a story. I've learned this. That's why I write what I'd like to see. I normally write characters or pairings people don't think about. I try to read what people write about certain characters. Not shockingly, I've read zero to very few that focus on Millicent, and the few I have, mainly have written her as what we see in books. Evil, evil follower Slytherin. (Not all have, but a lot do) That's why I pick the fringe characters. insert blissful sigh That and the fact that I absolutely suck at writing everyone else's favorite characters (i.e. Willow, Ginny and lots more). Thanks again to the reviewers. It's nice to know people like the story. And I am really trying to stick to one story so I can get it finished (unlike other fics of mine which are all frozen. I blame Edgar, he's been giving me new ideas, which I'm furiously scribbling down for later use)

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Whatever You Do, Don't Tell Her She Scares You

Millicent was finally given a reprieve from filling out the orders a half hour later. She yawned, playing it up a little. Fred just gave her a look.

"Go on, I'll finish up these last two orders. 'Sides, I think Zabini's up and looking for round - which one would it be again?"

"Three." Blaise said darkly from the door.

"In which I'll most likely beat you _again._" Millicent shoved the chair back from the table they'd been working at.

"Can I make a bet on that?" Fred grinned. "I mean, I've seen how she's clearly the better -"

"Say 'man', Weasel, and you'll have to Skele-grow those hand bones." Millicent said coolly.

" -of the two." Fred finished.

"We need to talk, Millicent." Blaise narrowed his eyes at Fred.

"Well, I'm headed home, so unless you want to face my Mother, you better say your peace." She said, her clothing returning to how they had looked that morning, when she'd first come to the shop.

"Tomorrow at ten good for you, Mil?" Fred called casually, as she shoved her way past Blaise.

"Yeah."

"Good-night then!"

Millicent strode out into the street, trying to ignore Blaise. He, however, would not be ignored.

"I cannot believe you told Padma Patil I got off on being _dominated_." He ground out.

"Yes, I couldn't either, until it just popped out of my mouth." She gave him a very self-satisfied smirk. "She actually have the balls to say something about it?"

"Yes, she did."

"Oh, I bet she gave you that little snooty, 'I can't believe something that dirty can even be performed' speech, and gave you absolutely horrid looks for the whole day. She's become a total prude on top of being a complete bore. And here I thought that could never even be accomplished." Millicent's smirk became quite gleeful as she noticed Blaise's angry scowl.

"I didn't confirm that, you know." He hissed.

"Yeah, well, if she didn't do that, you'd be kissing my feet instead of hissing at me."

"Millicent Bulstrode."

"Don't even try it. You were the one who wanted me to pretend to be your - whatever the hell I am to you in her eyes." Millicent snorted, "Honestly, Blaise, I can't even fathom why you like that - that exotic looking stick-bug, anyway."

"She's got a wicked sense of humor?"

"More like she's got wicked cool breasts." Millicent sneered. "You haven't changed since school, Blaise. I remember that tryst you had with - oh, who was she?"

"How the hell should I remember?"

"You got caught in the corridor with her. Near the DADA classroom, seventh year."

"The Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah, which one was it?"

"Hannah Abbot, right after she lost all that weight - and you're changing the subject." Blaise glared.

"Anyway, you know it's a front." Millicent sighed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw the Stick-bug's eyes after I said that bit about domination." She rolled her eyes, "Such a hypocrite. She'd enjoy dominating."

"Well, I bloody well wouldn't -"  
"Liar." Millicent stopped walking as they approached the Leaky Cauldron. "Look, I mean it, Zabini. You try to be all he-manly on me again, and I'll do worse than I did today. I don't care if you're one of the best friends I've got, I'll knock your ass around like a bludger. And you know I can." She said sternly.

"Mil, you came to me crying this morning. We, and I know Flint and Bell made their way over there, are looking out for you because -"

"You don't need to. Slytherins look out for number one, we always have. I can handle myself, Blaise. Well, except where your brilliance for the law comes in." Her hands on her hips, she glared up at him. "I've been made this way, Blaise. You can't unmake the way I am."

"Well, if you would conform just this once and -" The glare got colder. "I'm not going to back down because you're glaring at me, Mil." He snapped.

"No, but you might _fall_ down after I knock some sense into that idiotic head of yours."

"Mil -"

"Night, Zabini."

With that, Millicent disapparated with a loud pop. Blaise was left glaring at the space she'd been standing. If he was lucky, she might actually speak to him again within a month or so.

Millicent was fed up, tired, and her feet were killing her. Just because you wore comfy shoes didn't mean your feet would be feeling good at the end of the day. She just wanted to grab a quick bite of dinner and head straight to take a nice long soak before crashing into bed. Her hopes were soon dashed as she heard her mother call to her. Her mother was glaring at her from her chaise when Millicent walked into the sitting room.

"Where have you been, Millicent?"

"Work, Mother. We've been over this before. I told you last night I started today, and in my note this morning."

"You were told to wait for me to come down before you could leave. And a proper witch never wakes before eleven _unless_ she is at school or has children to attend to. Seeing as you are neither, you are to wake at eleven."

"Mother, I had to be there quite early."

"I don't think you should be working. It's made you quite disagreeable." Her mother sniffed.

"Mother, I've only been working a day -" She said heavily, trying to yank her tennis shoe off while making it look like she was slipping off heels.

"And look how disrespectful you've become! Talking back, coming in at all hours of the night -"

"It's seven thirty, Mother. Cook hasn't even finished the meal." Millicent said, rather exasperated, as she finally succeeded in getting the shoe off. "I've worked all day, and all I really care about right now, is getting out of these clothes, eating and going to bed."

"Well, you best change out of those clothes before dinner." She sniffed, clearly affronted by her daughter's rude behavior. She spun sharply on her heel, most likely to go bother the help into moving faster.

Millicent sighed heavily, giving up on the pretense of trying to casually rid herself of her shoes. Yanking the other off, she made for the stairs. She was halfway up them when she heard her mother's voice.

"Beatrice! It's so good to see you, darling!" Her mother called in her shrill excited voice only she thought was charming.

Millicent raced up the remainder of the stairs to her room. There, she found the outfit her mother had planned for her to wear this evening, and her nagging suspicion was proven correct. It seemed that she wasn't going to be able to relax at all tonight.

Beatrice Flint was an actual war widow, as opposed to Margaret Bulstrode who acted as if her husband was dead. She was also one of the few people who played along with Margaret's beliefs that her husband was dead. Not many people did that, and it was one of the reasons Millicent was so grateful that her mother had one person in her life that did that for her.

Beatrice and Margaret were the same age, and had been in the same year and house at Hogwarts. Because of this, they were the best of friends. They married the same year, and had managed to both get pregnant around the same time. However, while Beatrice bore her son Marcus, Margaret lost her son. She lost three children, another son and a daughter, over the next five years. Beatrice was the first and only person to consol her dear friend, when it seemed even her husband had turned against her.

When Margaret was finally able to carry a child to term, it was not what her husband expected nor wanted. He wanted a son to carry on the family name with pride. Instead, he was presented with a baby girl who even the mediwitches and wizards had mistaken as a boy prior to it's birth. Beatrice was the first who cooed over the baby, saying how she wished she could have a little girl and how much fun it would be raising a little girl to be just like her.

It was because of Beatrice and Margaret's close friendship that Millicent spent most of her young childhood in the companionship of Marcus Flint. To her father's delight, Millicent was not a delicate little thing who preferred playing tea party, but liked to do rough and tumble sort of things. Marcus was mostly to blame for this, because his mother dragged him around to the Bulstrodes' home and left him to play with the little girl while she chatted with her friend.

Marcus had expected endless hours of tea parties and dress up, instead he got a hours of playing with toy quaffles and Quidditch action figures, with make-believe games of dragon or giant slayer. It was Marcus who taught her how to fly when she was ten, how to properly throw a quaffle when she was nine, and how to hit a bludger when she was eleven. It was Marcus who put her name down as a potential candidate for the house team when she started Hogwarts. It was Marcus who taught her how to take care of herself and not have to depend on someone to look out for her.

Marcus had become her honorary older brother, and ranked high in his priorities at school. After Hogwarts, when he'd gone on to play for Falmouth, he hoped she'd finally make the team, and wrote a rather livid howler to Montague for putting Crabbe and Goyle as the new beaters. It hadn't done him any good, because Malfoy ran the team, and he wanted the two incompetent apes to play. Millicent appreciated all he had done for her.

Beatrice Flint had hoped her son would one day marry her best friend's daughter. But Marcus had married Katie Bell almost two years ago and had broken his mother's heart. The fact that Katie was the polar opposite of Beatrice kept the older woman's dislike for her daughter-in-law simmering.

"Couldn't Marcus make it this evening, Beatrice?"

"No. He's out with that wife of his, talking about some Quidditch business." Beatrice sniffed. "If I'd had any say, that girl would be at home raising her children. But no, she's off -" Beatrice happened to look up at that moment, catching sight of Millicent. "Millicent, dear! Your mother was just telling me of your new hobby."

"Do sit down and join us, Millicent." Her mother gave one of her rare genuine smiles as she patted the cushion beside her.

"How are you doing, dear?"

"Good, I'm working in a joke shop in Diagon Alley." Millicent sighed.

"Which one?" Beatrice asked, "I know Molly Weasley's sons have one, but surely you _can't_ be working there." She gave a short laugh.

"Actually, I am." Millicent said stiffly.

"They actually _hired _you." Beatrice asked hesitantly.

"Yes. Seems one of them is getting married, and the other needs some help round the shop."  
"But weren't they Gryffindors?" Beatrice seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Yes."

"Hmm."

"Who are they, Beatrice?"

"Oh, you remember Arthur Weasley, don't you, Margaret? He was a few years ahead of us, and well, he was quite against the movement back before the first war started. They are two of his numerous children. Twins, I believe. He -" Beatrice looked at Margaret, going suddenly very still. "Well, you remember him." Beatrice said quietly.

"_Arthur_ Weasley. . . " Margaret's face closed down. "You never told me that you were working for _him_." She said, her voice low.

"I'm not, Mother. I'm working for his sons."

The silence was deafening as Millicent found herself on the end of her mother's glare. Millicent saw a glimpse of pain in her mother's eyes, followed by betrayal.

"How is the Quidditch Strike going?" Beatrice was the first to change the subject.

"Like most strikes, slow and painful." Millicent wrenched herself away from her mother's stare. "I'm sure Marcus has told you."

"No, he's too busy with his life to spend time with his mother."

"Marcus is heading one of the unions, isn't he?" Margaret spoke.

"Yes, Players of Quidditch. Millicent, aren't you one of the union members or something like that?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Madame, the meal is ready." One of the servants said, "Is Madame ready to sit down?"

"Yes, I believe we are."

They were halfway through the meal when the owl arrived. Millicent wiped her mouth as she excused herself to read the missive. In her head, she was slowly and painfully torturing Fred Weasley - until she read who the letter was from.

__

Mil,

Emergency meeting. Come quickly.

M. Flint

"Mother, Mrs. Flint, if you'll excuse me." Millicent rose from the table, until her mother's voice rang out.

"Where are you going?" Margaret demanded.

"A meeting - a Quidditch meeting." She replied, pushing her chair back in. "It was good to see you again, Mrs. Flint. I shouldn't be very long, Mother."

"Good night, Millicent dear." Beatrice gave her a tight smile, knowing full well that the meeting would most likely include her son.

"Be careful." Her mother whispered, as Millicent bent to kiss her on the cheek.

"Always, Mother."

Tugging on her cloak, she quickly apparated to the Flints home. She was never getting to sleep tonight, was she.

"This better be damn important, Flint, or I am going to skin you alive." Millicent snapped, pulling her cloak off as she entered their sitting room.

"Whoa, killer outfit, Bulstrode." Someone catcalled.

"As in, I am a killer who happens to be wearing this outfit?" Millicent glowered.

"Well, you are a bit dressed up, Mil." Katie winked, pulling her down onto one of the couches.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Well, we've hit a rather large snag."

"What is that?"

"It seems that several officials have been getting threats." Katie took a deep breath, "And they seem to think they're coming from you."

A/N: Ok, yeah.


	7. She’s Got Great Stalker Potential

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: Pg-13 to R

Spoilers: Set three years after book seven

Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student.

Summary: See, this is not what you do when your career is on the line.

A/N: Yeah. The last chapter was the hardest to write (due mainly to the fact that my computer decided to be evil and turn itself off every fifteen minutes, invoking the 'Save Often' spirit that was ingrained in me by my high school computer teacher, after I lost three pages of the story because of it) because I had hit a brick wall with what to have happen. Anyhoo, I seem to be back on track and well, here's some more.

__

She's Got Great Stalker Potential

Millicent was exhausted by the time she got home. After gulping down a cup of tea, she quickly apparated to Diagon. She wasn't particularly looking forward to being there, but - well, she really didn't have a choice, now did she.

The door was unlocked when she got there, and she decided to take it as a sign that the day could not completely suck.

"Hullo, Millie." Fred chirped as he emerged from the back room.

"Don't ever call me that, and hello right back." She grunted, taking off her cloak as she headed to the backroom.

"Heard you threatened half the Quidditch league." He took a sip of juice as he straightened the product bins.

"Really, I heard it was only the officials." She smirked as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

"I see you didn't bother dressing up this morning." He bit into a bagel, as he sat down behind the counter, his eyes skimming the accounting book before him.

"Isn't that my normal seat?" Her stomach growled loudly as she eyed his bagel. Tea was obviously not going to cut it this morning.

"There are more in the back room, it was my seat long before I hired you, and you bypassed my question." His eyes twinkled mischievously, taking another bite.

"Which one?" She called as she headed back into the other room, took a few seconds to decide between a salt and cinnamon raisin bagel and came back out. It was funny. Yesterday she'd have been suspicious of any food that he freely offered her. "Well?"

"Hmm, tough call." He took another sip of juice. "Well then, lets go with the outfit. Seems to be the one that _won't _get me killed."

Millicent paused in her chewing, and glanced down at the track suit she wore. He was dressed in a similar outfit, and she couldn't quite work out why he was upset with it. If he was even upset with it at all.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you." Millicent rolled her eyes. "My mother was still asleep and I barely managed to get past the servants who would enjoy squealing on me to her unnoticed. That and I was too damn tired to bother putting the illusion on myself." She sighed. "And from what I learned under your expert tutelage yesterday, my current outfit is completely acceptable. Besides, I can't stand getting all frilled up when I know I'm going to be busting my ass working."

"It is, and I see your point there. Can't exactly peddle the merchandise in an evening gown. Question number two, then?" He eyed her warily. "So, you know that the _Prophet_ is printing some stupid nonsense about you personally threatening the Quidditch establishment?"

"I spent many an hour going over that last night at the P.o.Q. meeting." She grumbled. "I haven't a clue who's threatening them, nor do I have the time to be off doing that. As a rule, I keep to threatening the people I really know well."

"Makes sense."

"What do we have to do today?" She asked, absently brushing the crumbs on her shirt off

"Not much, just the same old thing we did yesterday." He stared down at the ledgers once more.

"More grubby little children then?" She said, taking another bite of the bagel.

"Now, that just sounded odd." He peered up at her, a grin starting to form on his lips.

"I noticed that as well."

"Well, we are both certainly quite the perverts, aren't we?" When Millicent only gave him a look, he continued on. "So, straighten up the front and there's some more bagels and juice in the back - or tea. Or coffee. Whichever you prefer." Fred said, rising from the seat behind the counter.

"Where are you off to, then?"

"Just down to the Owlery. Sending out last nights orders."

"Right."

"I'll only be gone a short while. No need to be worried, you shouldn't get too many customers. Midweek is always slow."

"Got it."

Fred watched her out of the corner of his eye as she headed back into the other room. Shaking his head, he gathered up the packages that needed to be sent out. He was gone before she even ventured out of the backroom.

There had been a lull in the customers. Millicent glanced up at the clock on the wall of the backroom. It was different than the one in the main room. That one, she'd noticed, had been large silver tablespoons with wizarding pictures of everyone who worked at the shop, on them. She wasn't sure if she was really comfortable with her picture on the main wall, but it only said if she was scheduled to work and if she was off. The one back here seemed to have family members, or what she assumed were family members. Weasley couldn't just be randomly tracking that many red-headed people.

The door went off as she was staring up at the peculiar clock. She raced back to the floor just as a woman began making her way behind the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"No, not really." The brunette smiled at her. "You must be Millicent."

"Yes. And you are?" Millicent said cautiously. It was never good if they knew your name.

"Alicia, George's fiancee."

"Oh, the Quidditch player."

"Yeah. I actually caught a glimpse of you at the meeting last night. I was with the crowd from Puddlemere."

"Look, if you've -"

"I haven't come to threaten you to stop threatening the League. I know it wasn't you." Alicia said simply.

"How can you know it wasn't me? You don't even _know_ me." Millicent said harshly.

"No, but Katie and Fred do."

"And what does that have to do with anything? I could easily say that I know Goyle and he really isn't such a bad bloke to know. Doesn't mean it's true."

"No, it doesn't. But you have a couple things working for you that Goyle never did." Alicia held her ground, not many people did that.

"Really? Well do enlighten me."

"One, you have Katie and Fred backing you up. They're two of my oldest friends, and I trust their judgment. Two, you have Flint backing you up. Flint's a nasty bastard to go up against, but that doesn't make him evil." Alicia paused, "At least not vilely evil. He's also overprotective of the women in his life. You happen to be one of those privileged two. And three, you've got Blaise Zabini, checking up on you and trying to be menacing. That means you've got a helluva lot of people backing you, who know you and trust you." Alicia shrugged. "I guess that makes you good in my book."

"They saw me hassling Zabini when I went to his office." Millicent said stubbornly, her chin jutting up. "That's why they said it's me doing it. Not that I have to prove myself to you."

"Yeah, well I figure you had a reason for hassling him. Doesn't make you the culprit." Alicia checked the clock on the wall. She smiled. "My real reason for being here is to tell you Fred and George had to run an errand. They should be back in a couple of hours, just so you don't get worried."

"Why would I be worried?"

"Well, you have been working here for just a few days, and Fred's been here with you. Running the shop alone can be a daunting task." Alicia smiled. "They tried to get me to clerk a few years ago. It resulted in that clock being forcefully broken over George's head." Alicia nodded to the clock with her picture on it. "Fred actually wanted me to tell you. He says you're a good shop girl." Alicia bit her tongue the second that slipped out.

"It's not my life's ambition to be a shop girl." Millicent muttered.

"Nor is it mine. But, we all have to do things we don't want to, right?" Alicia looked around. "I see you aren't too busy. Must be a good sign then." She glanced at her wristwatch. "Bloody hell, is that the time? I have to meet with Molly and Ginny about bridesmaid dresses. It was nice meeting you, Millicent. I'm sure I'll be round here again before this damn strike's over."

"Yeah."

She hadn't been counting on the afternoon rush. She was premeditating the murder of a certain red-headed twin. She faced hordes of annoying little children, stressed out parents, and owls by the tons.

"Bloody git." She hissed when she was finally able to catch her breath.

She'd almost reached the door when a blonde bounded into the shop. Millicent bit back a scream when she noticed who it was.

"Bell, I've never been so bloody happy to see a Gryff in my whole life." She snapped the sign over to "Back in Half a Mo" and sighed, sinking into the chair.

"Fred leave you alone already?"

"He went to send out orders, then got dragged off by the other one."

"He's been doing most of the research and development now that George and Ally are getting ready for the wedding." Katie plopped herself on the counter beside her.

"That's why I'm here. To fill the void." Speaking of voids, the dungbomb display was nearly empty. She quickly gathered some more and carefully refilled the bin.

"I hated those things in school." Katie scrunched up her nose.

"Same here. Got a lot of these shoved in my robe pockets my fifth year."

"The reign of Umbridge - "

"And her high inquisitors."

"I'd nearly forgotten that -" Katie paused. How to word it gently?

"Yeah, well I was one of them." She glanced over her shoulder. "I was a little stupid in those days."

"Why'd you do it then? I mean, we've never really talked about that before." Katie asked quietly.

"To play Quidditch. Malfoy told me if I went along, he'd guarantee me a spot on the house team. Little prat didn't follow through when Umbridge went out of her mind." Millicent dropped the last one in. "An error in judgment on my part. Bloody hell!" She muttered under her breath as Molly Weasley popped into the room.

"Oh! Hello, Millicent, Katie. You're just the girl we're looking for. Alicia was hoping you'd be here. Marcus said you'd be popping in here."

"What's up, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Ginny, Alicia and I were looking at the gowns for the bridesmaids, and we need a four opinion. I realize your dress will be different, seeing as you are the matron of honor and as we can't get in touch with Angelina for some reason, we'd really appreciate your thoughts."

"Ally had told me she was planning on dress shopping, but she hadn't told me when."

"Of course, you've been so busy with the Quidditch negotiations." Molly's eyes drifted over to Millicent, before snapping back to Katie. "If you're not too busy of course."

"Sure. I just popped in to visit Mil when I noticed my schedule was pretty clear today. Mil, we're meeting again later this week - try not to be so formal next time." Katie stifled a giggle, remembering that ridiculous dress she'd worn to last night's meeting.

"Right."

"Flint wants to do dinner tomorrow night, you, me, and him."

Katie had that 'matchmaking' look in her eye. Between Katie, her mum, Beatrice Flint and Blaise, she had no bloody chance of a normal healthy relationship. She was doomed to bad set-ups, fake relationships and impossible goals.

"Right then. Good day, Mrs. Weasley."

"Yes, you have a good day, dear." Molly smiled stiffly. The two apparated out of the shop.

Maybe that hope earlier today hadn't been quite as right as she'd hoped it would be. Millicent went back to stocking, and flipped the sign. In her head, she was torturing Fred again. It had a quite relaxing affect on her.

Fred groaned as George tried on a third set of dress robes. He'd much rather be back at the shop, working on their inventory. Not watching his twin try to choose between the classic black or the red and gold set.

"Go with black." Fred said, for at least the fourth time.

"Did I complain when you were being picky over the quality of the ingredients we bought? No." George smirked.

"There's a difference. Do you even know what she's picked for the dresses? The red'll be an eyesore, Twin. And there's no bloody way I'm wearing that ridiculous thing."

"You wore the dragon hide suits."

"Yeah, well we were stupider back then."

As George paid for his robes (the black, thank Merlin), Fred picked up a copy of the Dailey Prophet. He flipped it open to the sport section, as he normally did. He nearly dropped the paper when he saw the large inside picture. It was of Millicent slamming a bludger straight at another team's chaser. Below it read the caption :_ Angry Player Threatens The League_. The article went on to say how the organization had received several threats over the last few days. He stopped reading and went back to an earlier sentence.

"Oi, Fred, you ready then?"

"Yeah."

A/N: Dun-dun-dun. . . sorta.


	8. No, That Word's NOT in Her Vocabulary

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after book seven  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student.  
Summary: See, this is not what you do when your career is on the line.  
A/N: Dear gods in heaven, it's been a while.

_No, That Word's _Not _In Her Vocabulary_

Millicent was completely bone tired by the time six o'clock rolled around. The shop was supposed to stay open for another two hours, but she didn't have the strength to do it alone. A half-dozen patrons crowded into the shop, and all Millicent could find herself doing was checking the clock behind the counter. It was the first time in her life that she could actually recall wishing a Weasley would pop up. Sighing, she heard a pop come from behind her. She spun around, wand drawn only to find herself face first with one of the Creevey brothers.

"What the bloody hell are you doing back there?" Millicent demanded in her gruffest sounding voice. The blond boy visibly swallowed.  
"I- I'm here to pick up the shipment for Hogsmeade." Dennis Creevey stuttered.  
"What shipment? You got a receipt?"  
"Here - Miss Bulstrode." He held out a familiar orange piece of paper that Fred had showed her the day before.

The reams of orange embossed parchment had been one of Fred's inventions for making sure angry parents and professors knew that the item was guaranteed not to possess any Dark Magic, he'd explained to her. Their whole goal, he had said, was to make life living in the shadow of the Dark Lord bearable for the last three years of the bastard's reign of terror.

"Why didn't Weasley tell me about this?"  
"Just came up, M-miss Bulstrode," Dennis blinked. "Fred, he - he couldn't get back in time. Plans for the wedding and all."  
"Yeah. Just - oh, go on, get the deliveries," Millicent snapped, noticing two little boys mucking about by the dung-bomb bin. "Oi, don't even think about it, you little imps!" She cried, glaring at the two children. They immediately scampered away.

Katie was frowning at the dresses. She glanced over at Ginny's equally pained expression and Alicia's near-ecstatic face. She mentally groaned.

"Ally, I really don't think these dresses are a good idea," Katie said gently. Ginny looked like she was going to shout for joy - Ally looked like she was going to cry. "I mean, the colors won't flatter Angie or Ginny. It's - just too red. But maybe a paler shade -"  
"Or just the gold instead of both?" Ally frowned.  
"Yes! Gold will look stunning on Angie and Ginny -"   
"You'll look washed out!" Ginny cried, mirroring Katie's thoughts.  
"We can make mine red then," Katie sighed.  
"So I can have my colors after all?" Ally beamed.  
"Yes."

It was later than he'd have liked when Fred finally made it back to the shop. He wasn't really expecting the sight that met him. A muck covered figure was bent down on the floor, scrubbing furiously at a mess of the same green muck it was covered in. Millicent glanced up at him, her ponytail was a mess, and a glob of green muck was stuck to her cheek. A rag covered in said muck was hurled promptly at his face

"Hello to you, too," Fred muttered.  
"You left at lunchtime. It's five minutes to closing, and I'm still picking green muck out of my hair. A ragful to the face is hardly anything to get ruffled by," Millicent snapped. She continued to mutter to herself, and it seemed outrageously funny to Fred. She glared at him. "It's not funny!"  
"Someone set off the Everlasting Slime Bombs?" Fred held back the Again, but Millicent had a feeling there was one attached anyway.  
"Yes. That someone would be one of the twenty thousand imps and demons from hell that scampered through the doors this afternoon. Why in Merlin's name would you make something like that?"  
"To annoy Filch."  
"Very mature," she sighed.  
"There's a shower up in the flat if you want to clean off," Fred laughed. "If you put it off, it'll take hours to scrub off after it hardens, and it'll start smelling."  
"Fabulous," Millicent muttered. She looked skeptically at the door that led to his flat. Fred saw the look.  
"I'll stay down here and close up. It should take me a bit to clean the rest of this muck up, it's got -"  
"Let me guess, an anti-cleaning charm?" she asked ruefully.  
"Yeah."  
"Just spectacular!"

He handed her the key to the flat and took the cleaning supplies from her. Millicent headed into the back room, and up the stairs that led to his flat. She stood at the door for a few minutes, wondering what to expect.

There was a short foyer that led directly into the front parlor. It was a brightly colored and open space, filled with gold and red hues. There was a dark gold sofa that had seen plenty wear and tear, with matching and mismatching throw rugs and pillows. A fireplace crackled warmly at her from the back wall, and was nestled between two sturdy oak doors. The door on the left was propped open, and she could see a bed in the darkened room. There was a desk just beside the bedroom door cluttered with papers, maps and a few quills.

Next to the door on the right was another half-door, the top was propped open as well. She could see a stove through that door, and made her way through the door on the right. Inside that room was another bed, a desk, and a nightstand. There was an open door, and Millicent could see the sink just inside there. She cast a light spell and grinned when she saw the bathtub, spare towels, robe, and cleaning potions arranged next to the tub.

The tub filled quickly with steaming hot water, barely giving Millicent time to yank her muck covered clothing off and set them into the sink to soak in a potion called simply Everlasting Slime Remover. Apparently she wasn't the first one to be slimed. She double checked the bathroom lock and sank into the tub. The hot water enveloped her skin. Her muscles tensed slightly, bracing themselves for the weightless feel of the water. It was like heaven.

She soaked without moving for at least ten minutes, feeling far too blissful in this strange environment, but was too tired to really care. Millicent lazily massaged the cleaning potions into her scalp and skin. She rinsed the days grime off with more hot water, fresh from the brass tap.

Millicent pulled herself from the cooling water, and enveloped herself in the fluffy towels and robe. She cast a drying spell on her clothes, but left them to hang while the spell took effect. Her underwear had been spared from the muck, luckily. Millicent was shocked to see a baggy tee shirt and a pair of shorts folded and waiting on the bed for her. She peeked out the door in time to see Fred heading back downstairs. She pulled the clothes on, struggling to do so under the robe.

Millicent decided to sit on the bed to wait for her clothes to dry. That had been a mistake, because her eyes started to grow heavy. Fred found her a half-hour later, her hair still wrapped up in the towel with her feet tucked under the robe. He grinned at the sight, and doused the lights.

Millicent slept peacefully through the night. The next morning, however, she was anything _but_ peaceful.


	9. If Looks Could Kill, She'd Still Kick

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student.  
Summary: Overkill can be necessary.  
A/N: I know I've already bemoaned this bit somewhere else, but have I mentioned lately how my computer died, taking with it everything I've practically ever written? So, please, pity the poor author.  
A/N 2: Yes I read book seven, no none of It happened, no spoilers abound in this here fic. Please try to keep it that way in the reviews. Mmmkay?

__

If Looks Could Kill, She Still Would Have Kicked Your Corpse.

It didn't look like her room. It certainly didn't _feel _like her room. Probably because it _wasn't _her room. Millicent bolted upright, a uneasy panic flipping through her stomach. The damp towel slipped from her now nearly dry hair. She was dressed in a man's shirt and shorts. She pushed back the sheets she hadn't remembered tucking herself under and reached for her now-tinged-green clothing. What time was it? A quick glance at the nightstand gave her an answer she wasn't at all pleased with.

"Bloody buggering hell!"

Quarter after nine in the morning! She'd spent the entire night in her boss's flat, in his clothing. If that didn't paint her reputation in vibrant shades of slut, she didn't know what did. Granted, as far as she knew, nothing happened. It might have been a good long while since she'd had any, but Merlin knew she'd know for damned sure if she had. She'd be a lot less tense right now.

Millicent pulled her own clothing on and deposited the borrowed items back on the bed. Her sneakers were still covered in the muck and rather than subject her feet or her nose to the smell, she left them soaking in the sink. She quickly padded down the stairs to the shop, fully prepared to rip a hole in her oh-so-helpful-boss for not waking her last night. Unfortunately, someone was beating her to it. Literally.

"Where is she, Weasel?" Marcus' voice reverberated through the backroom, and her boss was nursing a split lip.

"Flint! That's no way to get information from him," Katie was scolding, her eyes flicking between the stairs and Fred. A smirk crossed the blonde's lips. "Besides, she's right there, so you can let him go now."

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Millicent demanded.

"You're mother owled me all bloody night wondering where you went to," Marcus snapped, letting go of Fred. He sneered at the younger man.

"Well, that's just lovely, Flint, but I wasn't talking to you. I will get to you and your issues in a bit," Millicent retorted, turning to face the now bloodied Fred. "You didn't wake me? You let me fall asleep and didn't even wake me?"

"As if I could have woken you at all," Fred scoffed. "I tried, you hit me in your sleep. So I figured it was in my bodily interest to let you sleep."

"Well, that clears things up," Katie said brightly, receiving glares from all three of them. "What? So Fred exhausted her with his manly sexual prowess, she's a grown woman after all. And Merlin knows the healthy libido of a Beater can't be satisfied with a solicitor alone."

"What?" Millicent and Fred shouted at the same time.

"That was a visual I never needed in my mind at all, Bell," Marcus groaned. "The girl is like my sister, for Merlin's sake, and I _never_ want to visualize a Weasely being naked. Much less thrusting."

"Besides we didn't sleep together at all!" Millicent shouted.

"So you're sneaking down from his flat all rumpled and shoe-less because…?" Katie blinked oh-so innocently at her. Apparently her worries had been spot-on.

"Because his moronic invention blew green disgusting muck all over me and half the shop last night! It took hours to clean half of it up, not to mention a good hour of scrubbing it off myself. I fell asleep after I took a bath! I didn't shag my boss!" Millicent snapped, her cheeks tingeing bright red as she stormed out of the backroom. "I'm not an utter slag."

"Now, now, having relations with your employer is nothing to be ashamed of -"

"I already told you what happened!" Millicent cried. "If I was looking for a shag, it definitely would not be with Weasley."

"Hey -"

"You shut your trap. You're my boss, and personally I find it insulting that you would even consider shagging your defenseless employees."

"We haven't had employees before you. The thought has never even crossed my mind!" Fred protested. "And you're not exactly defenseless."

"Wait, why did my mother owl you?" Millicent turned back on Marcus, her finger poking him sharply on the arm.

"Ow, Millie, you know I hate when you do that!" Marcus hissed painfully through his teeth. Millicent glared at him and poked him twice more for good measure.

"And I hate that name, so we're both in a lot of pain, now aren't we?"

"Apparently, your mum thinks you're harboring a one-sided love with Marcus," Katie sighed. "She concocted this whole scenario where Blaise found out about it, and Marcus scorned you both and that's why he's been seen in the company of one Miss Padma Patil, who's in on a scheme to bring down the noble Bulstrode name."

"What?" Millicent blinked.

"At least that's her soap-opera version of the newest Beater scandal to break. Your mum wrote it all down -" Marcus huffed, showing her the stack of letters and the corner of one partially obscured copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Wrote? That woman hasn't touched a quill in a decade. More likely used a bewitched quill," Millicent muttered, taking the letters from him. "I haven't shown her the paper about my alleged bullying of the officials. And what do you mean latest? There's only the one scandal."

Millicent glanced through her mother's frantic writing - although, she was right in the fact that her mother had indeed dictated the letter to her bewitched quill - shocked at the torrid affairs her mother had imagined she'd even be capable of putting herself in. One bit went on end about Marcus shattering her heart - and presumably her innocence - at a tender young age and marrying that disgrace of a Muggle-born girl. The next bit went on at length about how even now, Millicent's friendship with Marcus was putting a strain on her delicate relationship with Blaise - her mother could apparently sense it, though the poor soul kept it to himself. And now Blaise was seeking the comfort of the same type of girl Marcus had turned to just so he could feel a bit of the love Millicent gave Marcus.

"What the bloodly hell is this drivel?" Millicent cried, flipping through pages upon pages of speculation and pure rubbish about her. "Since when have I been harboring a sad, pathetic love for you?"

"Apparently, all of your life," Fred snickered as he peered over her shoulder to read the last letter. Millicent jerked her elbow back sharply, feeling a bit of her tension flit away at the sound of his pained groan.

"No one asked you, my lecherous employer," Millicent said in a sickly sweet tone. "How did Mother find out about Blaise and Patil? He's never mentioned her in front of Mother."

"Well, that would be part of the newest bit of slander someone's determined to set against you," Katie sighed, yanking the _Prophet_ away from where Marcus had tried to hide it behind his back.

"Newest?"

"This came out in last evening's addition. With your slime attack and the thorough cleaning Fred gave you," Katie winked suggestively at the two of them, "you probably didn't even see it."

"What? More rubbish about me threatening the damned officials? What moron would believe that?" Millicent's laugh of disbelief died in her throat.

"Skeeter," Marcus practically growled.

"But my name's not Potter," Millicent murmured, reading the headline in disbelief. "How the hell did I end up on Rita Skeeter's radar?"

"Celia Moreno 'Skeeter' , Rita Skeeter's seventeen year old 'niece' and budding trash columnist extraordinaire. Hufflepuff wallflower who was three years behind you at Hogwarts. Got a lot of crap your fourth year for her connection to Skeeter. Went by her mum's last name for the last four years," Katie explained.

"C. More Skeeter?" Fred asked, taking the paper from Millicent's shaking hand.

"She was the biggest rat in the entire school - worse than Malfoy," Millicent shook her head in disbelief. "She would have sold her mother to get in Umbridge's good graces. She was undeserving of the Hufflepuff colors."

"Yeah, that sounds wholly Slytherin to me," Fred muttered.

Marcus and Millicent both gave him a dirty glare. Katie stopped herself from nodding before lightly smacking Fred. He glanced around nervously.

"What? Slytherins are sort of notorious for being turncoats! Look at Lucius Malfoy - "

"Yes, but we _never_ sell out our mothers," Millicent said firmly. "Our fathers, yes, on occasion, but never our mothers. Besides it was an idiotic Gryffindor who started that nickname that made her willing to play turncoat."

"Okay, I get it." Fred held up his hands in defeat. "So, you think Skeeter junior is publishing this because of the Inquisitorial squad days?"

"No. What would she have to gain from this?"

The paper landed heavily on the work table as Millicent sat down in total confusion. The headline and accompanying pictures read boldly: _Broken-hearted Beater lashes out over Playboy Prosecutor's Secretarial Tryst??_


	10. She wakes up on the Wrong Side

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student. Correction: I own C. More Skeeter.  
Summary: Here's the shovel, there's what you've got to muck through…  
A/N: Because they are just made of awesome…

__

She wakes up on the Wrong Side or the Get-the-Hell-Out-of-My-Way Side of the Bed

"I'm going to strangle that little witch," Millicent gritted her teeth for the third time that morning. She squared her shoulders and marched forward purposefully.

Fred glanced over to her, truthfully trying to weigh and measure his words before he spoke. Saying something hastily and without any thought could get him injured and the bust lip and aching stomach were enough incentive to keep quiet for a bit longer.

Katie and Marcus had left over an hour ago, Marcus still disturbed by the fact that Millicent hadn't immediately gone to strangle the Skeeter witch. After throwing down the scandalous paper, she'd taken a deep breath and counted to five. Instead of marching out the doors and making her way to the _Prophet _headquarters, she demanded a quill and a sheaf of plain parchment.

Marcus had continued moaning about the countless owls and howlers that had arrived hourly for him, and demanded that she handle the situation. Millicent had punched him once in the shoulder before she handed Katie the parchment. Katie had scanned it once before nodding and forcefully pulling her very confused husband out of the shop. Which left Millicent and Fred relatively alone in the shop. She'd turned and faced him with a grim smile on her lips. She then turned the open sign over and busied herself with setting the shop to rights for their customers. Now, an hour later, Fred was still completely baffled at his employee's determined busywork.

Instead of looking for retribution from Celia Skeeter, here she was chasing after a four year old little witch who was determined to pull the carton of Ever-Bouncing Hogwarts castles to the ground. After giving the little girl's mother an aggravated glare that had the older witch scooping up her child and hastily making her way back out the shop doors, Millicent rounded the counter to face him again.

"Mil?" Fred said cautiously.

"What?" Her voice was strained, and even if he hated known the circumstances he could have told by her tone that not was all well with her.

"You don't have to stay and work. You can go home -"

"And get docked a day's pay?" Millicent held up a hand to stop him. "I can't afford it."

"I wouldn't dock you a day's pay," Fred snapped. "You more than deserve today off. You've got a lot on your plate today, your mother's worried about you, and Zabini -"

"And what, go home?" Millicent's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, go home. Straighten things out with your mother, Zabini, and set Skeeter straight."

"Set Skeeter and my mother straight?" Millicent scoffed. "You know nothing about this, so please, don't lecture me on what I ought to do."

Millicent stormed into the back room as a group of customers approached the counter to be rung up. Anger and humiliation warred for dominance in her mind. Fred wouldn't - no, he _couldn't_ - understand what was going on and what she had to do to set it to rights. What did she expect? He'd been a Gyffindor, for Merlin's sake! She had to handle this her way, the Slytherin way.

"We weren't finished, Mil," Fred cried, bursting into the back room a minute later. Millicent spun around to face him, shocked at the tone he was taking with her.

"I'm not going home," Millicent snapped, pushing past him again. She blinked in surprise when she got to the sales floor. The half dozen customers that had been in there were gone and the open sign had been changed to 'be in half a 'mo'. Fred stood behind her, arms crossed determinedly. He wasn't giving up without an explanation from her. She crossed her arms just as defiantly. "You're not making me go home."

"Really?"

"You _won't_ win. _They _won't win."

"What are you talking about? Taking a day off won't -"

"If I go home now, I'm essentially admitting my guilt!" Millicent cried. Fred felt his jaw sag.

"What?"

"If I go running home, my mother will automatically assume that everything she read and suspected is right, that her distorted version of the truth is spot on. It's better that I stay away from her for a few days until I sort this all out -"

"Why would your mother -"

"Not all families are as understanding and leap to defend their children as yours is, Weasley," Millicent said tiredly, the stress and hurt evident on her face.

"But you didn't do anything wrong," Fred argued.

"Not according to the Daily Prophet."

"It's the _Prophet_! They haven't said anything worth it's weight in the last ten years."

"Then why bother printing it? If it's in print, then it's just got to be true," Millicent argued.

"No it hasn't."

"Yes, and while you and I see that as a logic thought, my mother won't. So if I go home and tell my mother that they're lying about me and Blaise and Padma Patil, she'll assume I'm lying to mask the truth and embarrassment."

Millicent felt her eyes burning at the thought of her mother's accusatorial words and the conversation she would have to have with her mother eventually when everything settled down and Blaise was ready to move on with his life and stop helping her. She cursed her life and the circumstances that she'd had to deal with in the last four years. Fred watched as a bit of the mask slipped again, showing him what he was sure was just a fraction of the anguish she was feeling. At that same moment, he wanted nothing better than to rip Zabini, Skeeter, and Mrs. Bulstrode apart. Millicent didn't need this on her plate right now. She didn't need a suspicious mother, a cheating boyfriend, and a paparazzi circling her like vultures. He moved forward to comfort her when someone apparated into his shop.

Katie took one look at Millicent and pulled her into the hug Fred was planning on giving her. Millicent felt tears slowly run down her face when the shorter woman hugged her fiercely. Katie smiled at Fred's expression when she finally let go of Millicent, politely turning away from the younger woman so she could wipe away the tears. Katie turned the smile on her friend as she handed Millicent the things she'd requested.

"That's everything on your list, Mil," Katie said cheerfully. "I know you're hell-bent on staying away from Bulstrode Estate for the time being, so will you please reconsider coming and staying with me and Marcus?"

"What and fuel my mother and Skeeter's respective fires? I don't bloody think so."

"You're still coming to dinner tonight?"

"I shouldn't, but I suppose I have no choice." Millicent sighed.

"Good! Now, I shouldn't tell you this, but after I delivered your message to Blaise, Marcus insisted he go and hex Blaise's balls off for good measure." Fred grinned broadly at this. Maybe Flint wasn't a complete moron after all.

"What?" Millicent cried. "And you let him?"

"Like anyone's been able to ever get through Flint's very troll-like thick skull," a voice spat from the doorway.

The three of them turned to stare at a very bruised and slightly broken looking Blaise, who had an enraged Marcus practically breathing down his neck. Millicent leveled a glare at Marcus before turning a frosty one on Blaise. Before she could speak, Fred stepped around her, finger pointing back at the door Blaise had just come through.

"I'd kindly tell you to piss off from my shop, but I've thought it over so I'm telling you to get the fuck out of my shop."

Marcus, Katie and Millicent's jaws dropped slightly at the fierceness in Fred's words. Katie giggling hysterically at Blaise's face and Marcus even managed to give Fred an appreciative grin. Millicent straightened her shoulders and tried desperately to regain the look she'd learned best from her mother.

"I came to speak to Millicent, not you Weasley. So you can just -"

"You're not a welcome presence right now, Blaise." Millicent bit her cheek as she saw Blaise's face fall in disbelief. "If you'd been able to read my note _without_ Marcus' moronic and troll-like actions, then you would have known that."

"I -"

"Marcus, take your wife home now, and I won't hex you into oblivion very much when I come to dine with you tonight," Millicent snapped.

"I happen to think that's an excellent plan. And we'll be leaving. Laters, Mil, Fred!" Katie chirped happily, tugging a sputtering Marcus out of the shop. Fred almost laughed at the little thumbs up sign his former housemate gave him. "Fred, could you leave us alone for a bit?"

Fred jerked his head back at the soft tone of Millicent's voice. She'd been so sharp and confident when she had snapped her orders at Marcus that the softness she'd used on him was a complete 360 degree turn. He almost protested, but it was the look in her eyes, that same tiredness he'd seen before that had him nodded silently in agreement. He fixed Blaise with another cold stare before heading back to his workroom.

"Fine, but any blood you spill or body parts you hex off better be cleaned up before I come back," Fred shot over his shoulder.

Millicent let the icy glare she'd been giving Blaise drop a bit as she handed him a tissue for his bleeding lip. She smiled as she glanced over her shoulder at the workroom. This Weasley really wasn't half bad after all.

"Mil, I never meant -"

"Blaise, I'm sorry Marcus beat you up."

Blaise nearly dropped the tissue. Millicent hated having to apologize for something he knew she had no control over. He'd been at her father's 'mock' trial where the vindictive judges had ordered her to apologize for her father's actions and the wrongdoings of her dead grandfather who'd died in the first few months of Voldemort's return. At Voldemort's commands to boot. He hated that the pain he'd seen in her eyes now was the same pain he'd seen then.

"This would be so much easier if you'd even bothered to read the bloody note I sent you. Stupid, interfering Marcus. How's Patil taking this?"

"What?"

"Tell me you haven't completely ruined all the hard work I've been laying down with her for you," Millicent groaned. "You are an utter idiot."

"I thought you were angry about this?"

"I'm not thrilled about being gossiped about, but you've only been completely obsessed with that stupid twig for the last year. This is close as you're going to get to a perfect out with our very superficial relationship." Millicent said quietly. All she was rewarded with was Blaise's blank stare.

"My being depicted as a cheating scum-bag is a perfect out how exactly?"

"Are you currently shagging Padma Patil? Are you currently shagging me? She knows it's a cockamamie story, you know it's a cockamamie story. I act all upset and push you away, she swoops in and comforts you, you get the girl you're lusting after."

"But our agreement? I promised I'd keep your mother off your back about getting married." Blaise's brain normally worked faster than this, damn Marcus once again for his well-intentioned but idiotic protective streak.

"So she believes you're a cheating scum-bag. It all works out."

"And I lose my best friend over a stupid vindictive article. Real win-win situation we've got ourselves into, Bulstrode."

"My mother will forget it once she gets over her initial shock and awe. She needs something new to bitch about, and she will love blaming it on my everlasting love for Marcus," Millicent rolled her eyes at Blaise's pained bark of laughter.

"You're going to stay with Flint and Bell until things blow over with your mother?" Blaise asked after a few moments of silence. His eyes tick behind her, and Millicent knows Fred has poked his head out to check on them. Millicent puts the icy stare back into action and does something she never thought she'd say in a tone like this to Blaise.

"No, I'll be staying here with Weasley where I'm appreciated."


	11. Her Word is Law and Could Possibly Get Y

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student. Correction: I own C. More Skeeter and assorted others…  
Summary: Innuendoes notwithstanding, I kinda like it here…  
A/N: Um, yeah last chappie took me three days of writing, talking it through, rewriting and being sorely tempted to strangle my annoying nephew who turned off my computer and losing me about a paragraph of agonizingly over-thought diaglouge I was a little in love with…okay, that sounded kinda creepy to me. Sorry.

__

Her Word is Law and Could Possibly Get You Killed On Sight if Broken

It was far too quiet for Fred's liking. As much as he was pissed off at Blaise for Millicent's sake, he'd only been half serious about her maiming and/or killing of the cheating bastard. She was taking things remarkably well for a woman scorned. He poked his head out of the backroom and saw a still breathing Blaise give him a look. He was currently a bit too mangled for Fred to be sure if it was an annoyed look or not. Fred was hoping it was an annoyed one.

"You're going to stay with Flint and Bell until things blow over with your mother?"

"No, I'll be staying here with Weasley where I'm appreciated."

Fred shook his head to be sure he heard her right. Blaise winced in pain as his jaw dropped. Then an idea that was very wicked and one that Blaise deserved one hundred percent crossed his twisted mind. Fred grinned at Blaise's pain as he strode cockily around the counter to gingerly wrap his arm Millicent.

"Are you completely nutters?" Blaise snapped, anger in his voice at Fred's slightly possessive actions.

"Like Mil said, she is appreciated here any time and every time," Fred leered at her. "I really appreciated her 'help' last night."

Millicent bit her cheek to keep from laughing at Fred's overly zealous acting. She did appreciate the sentiment, and really wanted to tell him the truth about her relationship with Blaise just for doing this for her. But she barely trusted Bell with the secret, and Flint often forgot that they weren't really dating as it was. Blaise's eyes narrowed dangerously and Millicent stepped forward, a warning look in her eyes.

"It's best if we don't see much of each other for some time, don't you agree?" Millicent said quietly. "I'll be fine."

"I'll make sure I take good care of her," Fred said a little too lecherously. If he didn't stop that, she really was going to hurt herself from laughing hysterically or even worse, from holding it in.

"You so much as -" Blaise started to threaten him before Fred stopped him.

"We've already had this conversation, Zabini. Your threats really don't scare me."

"I can handle myself, Blaise."

"And I'm not so bad at 'handling' her, myself."

Blaise looked visibly sick, and had it been any other day, Millicent was fairly certain she'd be sick after hearing those words about herself coming from Fred's mouth. But today, she was oddly comforted by his words. She turned her attention back to Blaise with a look that was practically pleading with him to just leave her alone for a bit. Blaise ground his teeth but did as she asked.

Fred's arm was still around her shoulders when Blaise apparated himself home, feeling like the world's biggest wanker for hurting his best friend because of his stupid hormones. And like everything else in her life that had gone almost tragically wrong, Millicent would hunker down and bear the full weight and responsibility of someone else's screw up. He _accio_'d a healing draught and sunk down into the cold leather of his couch, wishing he could fix this and knowing it was next to impossible for him to do while it was still so raw. He sighed and mentally disemboweled that dratted Skeeter clone and for a pinch of extra measure threw in the twin to boot.

Blaise lurched back up to a sitting position. Why was Millicent wearing the same clothes the night before, and why hadn't she punched the twin for draping an overly possessive arm over her. She'd even looked like she had wanted to smile up at that buffoon. Blaise gagged as that niggling little thought crossed his mind. There was no way Millicent would be stupid enough to let that mutant touch her…wasn't she?

Now that Bell, Flint, and Blaise had all left her in peace she could collect her thoughts. Such as why was Fred's arm still around her and why wasn't she pushing him off already? She glanced up at him. Fred's head was still pointed towards the door and when she opened her mouth to ask him why he was still holding her, he stopped her from speaking by holding up a finger. Millicent arched a brow at him, and clenched her fist in annoyance. Fred's gaze never wavered from the door.

"He's sneaky," Fred said without moving his lips.

"What?"

"Zabini didn't seem entirely convinced that we were and item," Fred answered, once again barely moving his lips.

"That could be because we're -"

"Shh!" Fred snapped his head around to face her. "Do you want him to hear that?"

"Again, what?"

"He could be waiting -"

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" A voice sneered from the doorway. Fred and Millicent jerked around to see an elegant looking couple in the doorway. The owner of the sneer curled a lip in disgust at the sight of Millicent. Not shockingly at all, Millicent gave him a similar look. "Bulstrode."

"Merlin, to what do we owe this pestilence?" Millicent spat. She turned back to face Fred, who only grinned at the venom in her words. "Please tell me you're well stocked in extremely strong disinfectants."

"I've got quite a few me and the twin whipped up for such infestations."

"Good, because I have a strong feeling we'll be needing to clean the shop from top to bottom with them after it's left."

"Fred!" Ginny Malfoy groaned at the overly-familiar banter most of her brothers exchanged when she and her husband went anywhere with her family.

"Will you get your slave in line?" Draco sneered at his brother-in-law. Millicent bristled at his words. It was something he'd often said to her as a student, and it was still a raw nerve. Before Millicent could respond to that or even better slug him like she really wanted to, Fred spoke up for her again.

"It's the other way around, Ferret," Fred snapped. "I'm completely at her mercy, and as you can tell from the gleaming quality of my humble shop, she runs a very tight ship. So don't get Ferret fur all over my clean floors."

Millicent, Draco and Ginny all turned in varying shades of shock at Fred's angry words. Hell, Fred was even a little shocked at the venom in his own words. He blinked twice before the lazy grin returned to his face. He pulled Millicent closer to him and gave her a casual wink. Millicent fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was going to do it again, and this time she wasn't so sure she found it as amusing as she did the first time. Draco gave a snort of laughter.

"It's one thing to delude yourself with a lasting commitment where Blaise was concerned, but this is just priceless," Draco laughed. "I'm surprised you managed to keep him squirming under your thumb for so long, but then again, he always did get off on that sort of thing no matter what the slag on top of him looked like."

Millicent's cheeks burned at both the insults he'd hurled at her. Sure, she was a little peeved at her current situation and at Blaise, but the cowardly likes of Malfoy had no room to talk. She was so tempted to hit him, for his words now and every insult he'd flung her way for those seven years at Hogwarts. Before she could get out of Fred's too bloody tight grip, the Weaslette slapped her husband upside the head.

"Draco, go pull your head out of your arse at the Cauldron."

"Gin," Draco growled at her.

"I've come to speak with my brother, not hear you belittle someone because Harry pissed you off at work again."

Millicent couldn't help snickering at Draco's pout. Good lord, the brat had learned early on that women were susceptible to his looks and even more so when he was put on. There was a reason Pansy was still hung up on him and had even been with his father several times after the shocking wedding announcement had gone out in the _Quibbler_ and the _Prophet_. Draco had taken out two gaudy two-page ads in both papers with the sole purpose of striking out at exactly three people: Pansy who'd claimed she threw a maiming curse at Ginny on 'accident' in the confusion of the battle, Lucius who had betrayed both wife and son to flee for his life, and Harry who had still been a little hung up on the Weasley girl.

"We've got an appointment at noon, Gin," Draco whined. Millicent winced at his attempt to sound cute. For that matter, so did Fred.

"I know, dear," Ginny sighed. "We'll be there in time, just wait for me at the Cauldron, will you?"

"We can't be late."

"So the sooner you go the sooner I can talk to my brother and the sooner we can go visit her."

It hit Millicent then. She knew who he was so anxious to visit and why. It was the 23rd of the month, a day even she had circled on her calendar. She slipped from Fred's hold and stared at Malfoy dead on. The words were out of her mouth before she could even stop herself from saying it.

"You wouldn't want to be late to visit your poor pitiful mummy, now would you, Draco? You only get this opportunity once a month to visit her in her cell, and we all know how attached you are to her."

"Don't you talk about her, you filthy whore!" Draco spat, lunging for her. Ginny glared at her as she pulled Draco back from Millicent. Fred helped pull him to the front door as Millicent stepped back behind the counter and disappeared into the back room.

"I'll owl you later, Fred. Once everything has settled down." She tugged forcefully at Draco's arm.

"Yeah," Fred murmured, glancing over his shoulder. The sign stayed flipped and the shop quiet for several minutes.

When Millicent rounded the counter again, with different clothes on and an odd look in her eyes. He stared at her for a moment.

"I thought mothers were off limits?" Fred said quietly, breaking her trade of thought.

"Our own mothers are, I never said anything about anyone else's," Millicent murmured.

"It was a low blow."

"And he kept all his blows above the belt?" Millicent snapped.

"No, but Malfoy's an utter prat, so it's to be expected," Fred shuddered as he remembered what had happened in the last battle to both Malfoy and his mother. "Still, you aimed for a raw nerve."

"And I feel horrible for it," Millicent murmured, causing Fred to whip his head around to face her. "What?"

"I thought you hated Draco."

"With a fiery passion of a thousand suns, but I respect the hell out of Narcissa Malfoy. She could be an utter bitch and get away with it. And she fought to save her son and countless other children in the battle, despite Voldemort's order. She got a raw deal. No one deserves to be driven insane for doing what she did that night."

Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Millicent remembered Bellatrix Lestrange's torture of her youngest sister all too well. Almost as well as she remembered seeing the three dementors circle and envelope her own worthless father. She shook away the memories as best she could. Her day was bad enough without reliving that horrible night again and again.

"I'm taking my break now, Fred."

"You're going out?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, I've got to go get a room at the Cauldron."

"What for?"

"Because I can't go home. We've already discussed this."

"Yeah, but you're staying here."

"What?"

"You already told Blaise you were staying here."

"Yes, to piss him off. I wasn't being serious about staying here."

"Why not? It makes complete sense for you to stay here."

"Again, what?"

"The Skeeter clone is obviously on the prowl for discriminating photos and imaginary leads, yes?" Fred asked.

"I suppose you _could _be right, but I fail to see what that has to do with me staying at the Cauldron," Millicent said tiredly. This day could be over any time now, she silently prayed.

"Pretend I'm C. More," Fred sighed.

"Please don't tempt me." Fred ignored her and continued on.

"She sees you at the Cauldron, sees you walk to work, and knows she's gotten to you. She writes more idiotic stories about you and proceeds to play havoc with your life."

"Fred, you're seriously paranoid," Millicent sighed. "You should have been a Slytherin. That said, you have got a point. I would definitely like to keep the fact that I work here a secret."

"I know I'm supposed to be insulted, but honestly, I'm not sure which sentiment is supposed to insult me more."

"Thank you, Fred."

Fred gave her a lopsided grin. He marched over to the door and flipped the sign to 'closed'. Millicent stared at him.

"Why are you closing the shop?"

"Because I am the boss."

"But we don't make any money when you close up early."

"Correction, _I_ don't make any money. You still get paid for a day's work without having to do any more work."

"Why?" Millicent asked, curious as to why he was willing to do this for her.

"It's the 23rd, Mil."

Millicent gave him a tired smile. It was a nice thought, for some people. Some people needed that kind of closure, or peace of mind or whatever the hell they were supposed to get out of it. To her it was just a reminder of someone else's stupid mistake.

"The last thing I need is to visit my half-dead father, Fred. I haven't visited him in the last three years, so why the hell would I start now?" Millicent still smiled though, and she considered what he offered her. "I think I will take you up on your offer. I'm exhausted."

With that, she turned back to the back room and marched back up the stairs. There was a comfy bed with her name on it and what she wanted more than anything was just a chance to escape from her crazy life for just one second. She paused at the door to the flat.

"Oi, Fred?" Millicent called.

"Yeah?"

"Come with me to dinner at Bell's house?" She held her breath for a moment while he debated his answer. She shook her head, wondering what she was thinking. "Never mind -"

"What?" Fred said from behind her. Millicent gaped at him. When had he snuck up behind her. Fred only grinned. "And pass on a chance to annoy Flint? Like I would ever."

"Good, because I'm fairly certain Bell intends to ambush me with a blind date," Millicent returned the smile, noticing as his fell away to confusion.

"What?"


	12. Miss Manners She Ain't

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student. Correction: I own C. More Skeeter and assorted others.  
Summary: Do you know what you're setting yourself up for?  
A/N: okay, last chappie had a mind of its own. Seriously. And apparently it collapsed in on itself nearly three years ago. gah. A big hunk of this (up to the first pov break) was written over the course of those three years. Still know where I'm goin' with it though.  
A/N2: Also? Totally pimping the requests for prompts for this year's B.I.C. Challenge (Birthday Insanity Collection Challenge). All I need is reader participation. Check out my profile for more details.

__

Miss Manners She Ain't

It felt odd, returning to this room so soon after her angry departure hours earlier. Millicent sighed, plopping down into the welcoming mattress. She rolled over on her side, facing the crowded wall she'd failed to notice in her exhaustion the night before. Pictures and posters and bits of memorabilia literally shoved at each other for more space. Millicent found herself smiling at a cluttered mess of a wall that reminded her so much of her flat up in Falmouth. She remembered the looks of duel disgust her parents had had in her family portrait every time she added a new scrap to the heap.

She'd relished every new addition. That feeling hadn't lasted long. Within a year and a half of her new life of freedom as a professional athlete this stupid strike over tiny payment, perks, and obligations to team and to the players families had risen up. She missed that flat and her roommate, Portia.

Apart from Katie Bell, Portia was one of her few female friends. The half-blood witch had been born in Falmouth, but her family had moved away during the first war. When her parents split up, she'd gone off with her frightened Muggle mother to America. In the moment of her mothers defection, Portia's name had been removed from Hogwarts lists and placed firmly on the Salem Academy enrollment lists.

Suffice it to say, when Portia had returned to England after the second war, she'd known very little about the social stigma that Millicent had been carrying around since before her birth. It had been a most welcome relief. It was one of her most cherished friendships that did not involve a male. Bell half-counted, because she and Flint were hardly ever separated. There was one other female she was even remotely conversational with and that would be Luna Lovegood, and at best that was stressed by the Ginny Malfoy connection.

Still, it was times like this that she wished she'd befriended more females besides Katie Bell-Flint. She desperately needed to know how to fend off unwanted blind dates, without the use of props. And that was all Fred Weasley, former Gryffindor, current employer was to be this evening. A prop to ward off her sole ex-Gryffindor friend. The damned pushy lot that they were. She needed to make friends with some former Hufflepuffs, and fast.

Of course, the problem with former Hufflepuffs was that they were all a bit scared of her. Damn. Millicent shook her head and quickly fell back asleep, more exhausted than she'd realized shed been.

* * *

Fred quietly flipped the sign back to Open and spent the rest of the afternoon mostly trying to wrap his head around this latest development surrounding his employee. The end of the workday came about far more quickly than he'd realized, and soon he found himself half-way up the steps to his flat. Poking his head in the half-open doorway of his brother's room, he noticed that the bed was empty and still made, which meant that Millicent had slept in his bed. Again.

He wasn't sure why that thought made him smile. It wasn't as if he was joining her in his bed. Or that he even _wanted_ to join her at that. She was his employee. They barely even tolerated each other. He shook his head and knocked softly on his bedroom door. There was a small squeak of the mattress and a groan of protest from inside.

"Millicent? You up?" He called, opening the door slowly.  
"Oi, don't you _knock_," Millicent had her back to the door, dark damp hair falling down her very bare shoulders.

It wasn't as if she was naked. Some slinky little dress in deep crimson - one of Bell's impulse buys, he was sure - lay unzipped against her pale flesh, the view only marred slightly by the black band of her bra. Fred's mouth was a lot drier than it had been before coming into _his_ bedroom to find her partially dressed...again. Millicent didn't seem to notice his lack of response.

"Since you already barged in, you mind doing up my back?" Millicent glanced at him over her shoulder, her brow crinkling. "Weasley?"

"Right, yeah," Fred cleared his throat and took a step forward. "You always get so fancy for dinner at the Bell-Flints?"

"No, normally just jeans and a jumper or tee," Millicent reached up to pull her long dark hair over her shoulder and out of his way, exposing more of her bare back to him.

"What's with the dress then?" Fred's hands _were not_ shaking as he pulled the zipper up.

"Bell said she'd put a twenty-four hour hex on all of the other clothes that would make them shrink if I tried to wear anything else," Millicent shook her head. "Girl ought to have been a Slytherin."

"As devious as all that is, I meant why does she want you to wear a dress?" Fred smiled as she turned around to face him.

"To make this," Millicent gestured to her chest, "Eye candy to whatever poor sap she's chosen to be my latest set-up."

"But you're with Zabini," Fred frowned.

"Yeah, but Bell's got it in her head that we both deserve better," Millicent cleared her throat and turned away from him again. "I'm gonna go primp."

"Wait - if you don't like all the spectacle, why do you bother to go?"

"Cause I don't trust your cooking," Millicent said over her shoulder as she breezed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

Fred shook his head and quickly grabbed a change of clothes. Millicent shook her own head as she stared at her image in the mirror. The real reason she went to these set-ups mostly had to do with her mother's well-meaning but suffocating nature. That and she enjoyed Marcus and Katie's company - and Marcus could cook a decent meal, even if he often passed it off as Katie's handiwork. He never saw the faces that Katie pulled behind his back while he was serving.

Merlin, for all their interfering ways, she did love her stupid friends. And she had to begrudgingly admit that Fred Weasley was quickly becoming one of those included in the tiny circle.

"Katie know youre bringin me round?" Fred's voice called from the other room.

"Now why would I want to go and spoil the surprise?" Millicent chuckled quietly.

"Don't know. Reckon Flint might not make enough pasta?"

"Don't you mean _Katie_?" Millicent called innocently, finishing up the last of her basic cosmetics charms. Bit of rogue, hint of lip stain, and a stroke of shadow for her eyes. All in shades of red, because Katie had chosen damned Gryff colors for her to wear.

"George, Ally, Angie, Lee, Katie and myself all went on a holiday together once. _Katie_ couldn't even boil water without singeing the pot."

"Don't let Flint know you know!" Millicent raced out of the bathroom, ignoring the mirror's wolf whistle and nearly plowed right into Fred.

"I've eaten the man's food, and since I haven't keeled over _yet_ - I'm not going to tempt fate by insulting him _now_," Fred snorted.

"Why're you wearin' a tie?" Millicent took a deep breath, calmed a bit at that.

"You're wearin a dress. Seemed appropriate."

"Its the exact color of my dress."

"Would you look at that? Gryffindor crimson, who ever would have thought?" Fred grinned.

"You're gonna make tonight pure hell, aren't you?" Millicent narrowed her eyes.

"Depends on what idiot Bell's got waitin' on you."

He winked at her and turned to leave. She watched him go, a little perplexed on what had just happened. What the _hell_ was wrong with this twin?

* * *

"What the _hell_ is wrong with the Twin?" Ginny Malfoy nee Weasley huffed out, sitting across from George at Molly Weasley's kitchen table.

"Gred? What's he done now?"

"Bulstrode was _completely_ out of line with Draco when we were in the shop today," Ginny frowned. "Whatever inspired you to _hire_ her?"

"You can blame _that_ entirely on the twin," George shook his head. "She does good work though, at least, that's what I've heard from Dennis and Ally."

"What are you two whispering about in here?" Molly smiled brightly as she slapped George's hand away from a platter of wrapped cookies. She pressed a kiss to the top of Ginnys head. "How is Draco doing today?"

"He'd have been better if that Bulstrode girl wasn't working for the twins -"

"Oi, _Fred_ hired her. Not me. And Ally backed him!"

Both siblings noticed as Molly stiffened uncomfortably. She cleared her throat and turned away from them.

"I suppose Draco didn't say anything to upset her as well?"

"You know how he gets on the 23rd," Ginny bit her lip. "They were _both_ out of line."

"And the _Prophet's_ reporting all that stuff about her," George could not believe he was actually standing up for _Malfoy_ in a fight.

"Yes, but it is C.M. Skeeter, and she's not exactly unbiased, is she George?" a dreamy voice said from the doorway. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley. Gin, did you know Draco's standing out in the rain?"

"No, damn it. Thanks, Lu!" Ginny pushed away from the table to go pull her idiot husband back inside.

"Hello, Luna. What's this about Skeeter publishing things about Millicent?" Molly asked, pulling the younger witch into a quick embrace.

"It's not real journalism," Luna Lovegood shook her head sadly. "Its spitefulness, Mrs. Weasley."

"Doesn't make it not true," George scoffed.

"And since when you are the judgmental type, George Weasley?" Luna said quite fiercely. "I've known her for the last two years, and she's been nothing but professional and private for all that time."

George lowered his head, avoiding his mother's and friend's eyes. He wasn't going to win this argument. All the women in his life - with the exception of Ginny and Hermione - seemed to be leaping to Millicent's defense.

"Here, Luna. The cookies you asked for are all ready to go," Molly plucked the platter off the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'd love to stay longer, but I wouldn't wish to keep everyone waiting. Good-bye, George."

With platter in hand, Luna disapparated with a loud pop. Luna was like that these days - popping in for a few minutes and popping right out again.

"What'd she need cookies for?" George grumbled.

"She's going to a dinner party!" Molly shook her head at her son.

"And you just _make_ cookies for her?"

"Have you not noticed the great big portrait she's been doing for your father and I?" Molly jerked her head to the wall behind him. "Between that and helping her father with the _Quibbler_, and her own research for exotic magical creatures, the girl's nearly worn to a nub. A few dozen cookies aren't going to tax me too much in return. And I want you to be understanding of Millicent, George. That girl's got enough on her platter without you and your other siblings casting aspersions on her character!"

"But, Mum, you don't even know her!"

* * *

Millicent and Fred were the last to arrive at the dinner party it would seem. And _party_ it was. Katie opened the door to them with her mouth hung open, and they could hear laughing voices in the parlor behind her.

"Oh, thank God you brought the twin!" Katie cried, puffing out a breath shed been holding.

"What? The boy you meant to set me up with back out?" Millicent smirked.

"No. _Marcus_ invited extras. And we were terribly uneven. Get inside, will you?"


	13. She's Not Scared of the Shadows, They're

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes  
Author: Jmaria  
Rating: Pg-13 to R  
Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP  
Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student. Correction: I own C. More Skeeter and assorted others…  
Summary: Dinner party from hell…or, you know, that other place.  
A/N: So, I _might_ change the woman Blaise is interested in. Or, not change, but just make him get in and get gone with Padma. He's a fickle thing, my Blaise. Also, I am almost done with the penultimate chapter of Sarmatian Ladies. Yay.

_She's Not Scared of the Shadows, They're Scared of _Her

Katie pulled Millicent inside the flat, ignoring Fred for a few moments as was her prerogative. She pointed her hand to the slowly twirling cloak rack as she handed Millicent's cloak to him. There was an unholy gleam in her eyes that set off Millicent's nerves.

"What's that look for, Bell?" Millicent narrowed her eyes at the older witch.

"Haven't the foggiest idea what you're on about," Katie shrugged. "Can't I just be admiring how keen my sense of fashion is?"

"No."

"Okay," Katie huffed. "I'm a bit annoyed with Flint at the mo-"

"What a startling turn of events," Millicent snorted.

"Which is why I need a favor from you," Katie finished.

"I don't _do_ favors. They tend to get me in trouble."

"But then you remember all of the wonderful favors I did for you. Like getting you clothes today -"

"Which I will pay you back for," Millicent sighed.

"Please, this kind act of mine can only be repaid by the rebirth of your favor giving ability," Katie smiled brilliantly. Damned Gryffindor traits.

"What do you need?" She said gruffly, not liking this one bit.

"I just need you to keep _that one_ entertained," Katie ticked her head back to Fred, who was busy cursing at the cloak rack. Millicent smirked as the rack spun faster each time he tried to hang the cloaks. The sight of the rack taunting him more than made up for the mess in the shop. "And keep him away from Angie."

"Who's Angie?" Millicent frowned, tearing her gaze away from Fred.

"His ex. Angelina Johnson, chaser for the Harpies. That ringing any bells for you?"

"Didn't I concuss her during our last match with them?" She asked after a moment's consideration.

"You did."

"All I have to do is keep Weasley from talking to his ex?"

"Yes and no -"

"Bloody hell, Bell, I detest your cloak rack."

"But Fred, it was a wedding present from you and the twin!" Katie grinned mischievously at him. "Don't you like my improvements to it?"

"Flint's made you all dark and twisty," Fred muttered.

"Isn't it a _lovely_ improvement?" Millicent joked, giving Katie a look that said clearly they weren't done discussing her stipulations but were obviously hampered at the moment.

"Oi, you're supposed to side with _me_," Fred shook his head at her.

"Since when?" she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Since I hired you," Fred grinned. "And you know, shared my lunch with you."

Katie stared at the two of them for a moment, a silly little grin on her face. If Millicent hadn't been bantering with Fred, she would have recognized it as Bell's match-making face and run for the hills.

"Oi, Bell, let her in already!" Marcus' voice shouted from the parlor.

"Remind me why I don't strangle him?" Katie rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"You claim it's something to do with sex, but I block it out so I'm not quite sure what _it_ actually is," Millicent replied.

"Ugh, I've lost my appetite," Fred clutched a hand to his stomach.

Katie laughed as she led them to a half crowded room. Fred immediately recognized three of the four women and two of the four men. Marcus was scowling down at Luna Lovegood, his head snapping up as he saw Fred and Millicent enter behind Katie. Millicent caught the scowl that Flint threw her way and politely scratched her middle finger against her throat at him.

"They're here, so now we can eat!" Katie smiled brightly, ignoring the pointed look her husband was giving her.

* * *

George apparated into the flat above Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes to find it completely empty. Which was just damned odd. Where the hell was his twin? Peering into Fred's room, he spied the shopping bag on the bed. Ignoring the whole muggle metaphor of curiosity killing the cat, George tiptoed quickly into Fred's room and peered into the bag.

"What the hell is Gred doin' with ladies clothes?"

* * *

Millicent found herself seated next to a handsome Australian wizard on one side and Weasley on the other at the end of the table. Lovegood sat across from Fred and chatted with Millicent and the Japanese wizard sitting across from Millicent. It was all rather surreal.

"You couldn't even drop us a line to tell us you'd come up to England!" Fred laughed across her, shaking a finger at the Australian.

"Didn't know I had to run my schedule past you, Weasley," Ansell Mulroney grinned at him. "Don't worry, mate. The W's fine. Besides, we had to see why you lot all had your heads up your arses over Quidditch."

"The international teams have been bombarded with the English players," Rui Makino said in a serious tone. His dark almond shaped eyes slid over to Millicent. "This strike is weakening your country's chances at the World Cup."

"I'm not the one who's keeping strike going!" Millicent's eyes narrowed, getting really annoyed really fast with the topic. "That shite in the papers is just that - _shite_."

"Of course it is, Millicent would never resort to such things," Luna said calmly. "Can you pass the plate please?"

"It's really just a matter of girlhood rivalries," Fred chuckled. "The paper nonsense, not the strike. That's just pure stupidity."

Millicent blinked at both of them. She knew she was innocent, and it was one thing to hear Katie or Marcus defend her publicly. It was another entirely for Lovegood or a Weasley to do it. Apparently it shocked Fred's ex and Rui as well.

"Mind you, with the school rivalry, I could think of a much better way for the two of them to hash it out," Fred continued, ignoring Millicent's look. "One that involves jam and a little pool."

"Funny, that's what our fantasy always was for resolving Wood and Flint's school rivalry," Millicent snapped back playfully, which sent Katie choking on her wine.

"Or Harry and Draco's," Luna piped up.

"Ugh, let's not touch _that_ image, please?" Fred grimaced.

"Mmm, Dahlia Heywood and Lynette Skinnard," Ansell chuckled, tossing a grin Millicent's way. "Brings back lovely memories."

"Of course, the top choice running was for the twins," Luna said suddenly.

"Beg pardon?" Ansell's head whipped round as Fred choked on his drink.

Millicent gaped at Luna for a second, trying to remember what the 'top choice' was until it hit her. She hadn't even been aware that Luna'd heard about that - it had been a one off thing said between the Greengrass sisters and the Patil twins in the Library. Millicent had only overheard it herself, and oddly enough, it had been the quiet little Ravenclaw Astoria Greengrass who'd put it forth.

Millicent chuckled at the memory of Astoria and Padma weighing the pros and cons of using gelatin or pudding while Daphne and Pavarti fanned themselves at the very idea.

"I didn't know anyone else had been eavesdropping that day," Millicent grinned at Luna.

"Did you overhear when Daphne posited that they might as well use flavored lubricant?" Luna asked brightly.

Ansell coughed loudly as his drink went down the wrong pipe and Rui dropped his goblet completely. Fred blushed awfully and the witch beside Rui turned to find out just what was so fascinating. She was another Quidditch player, an American whose mother was Bulgarian and father was Korean-American. Millicent hadn't caught her name, but then again, the woman had been fawning over Roger Davies who seemed enraptured by Angelina Johnson.

"What's Ansell done now?" she half-smiled in the men's direction.

"Not me," Ansell chuckled.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, and Millicent found herself enjoying the meal. She'd also kept herself on task by keeping Fred as far away from Johnson as possible. The American witch, who finally did introduce herself as Ana Joon and Rui's cousin, soon joined in on the conversation with the five of them. That left Katie and Marcus to keep Angelina, Roger, Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott entertained.

They all settled back into the parlor after supper. Soon after a few cocktails Ansell, Ana and Rui made their excuses, as they had early port-keys to catch back to their respective homes. Millicent found herself and Fred in a corner surrounded by Hannah, Neville and Luna. None of them noticed Angelina or Roger's departures save for Millicent, who used it as an excuse to use the restroom and secretly corner Katie.

"I hadn't realized you were all close," Fred said quietly as he watched Millicent slip from the room with Katie. He wasn't an idiot, he knew Katie'd asked her to keep him distracted from Angie - he was just surprised that it actually worked for a few hours.

"The Last Battle and our last year at Hogwarts formed quite a few unusual bonds," Neville shrugged.

"She did help save our lives," Hannah nudged Neville. "Her and Mrs. Malfoy."

"What?" Fred frowned. He hadn't even known Millicent had been at the last battle.

"Millicent shoved Luna and Neville out of the way of Bellatrix Lestrange's hex," Hannah said tearfully, clutching Neville's hand in her own. "If anyone really knew Millicent, they'd know she's not capable of those things people have been saying about her in the paper."

"Han," Neville warned.

"And watching her own father's downfall -" Luna said quietly. "She hexed him, you know."

"My mum? Yeah, she told me," Fred nodded.

"No, _Millicent_ hexed him before your mum did," Neville frowned. "He'd cornered Hannah as she was helping tend the wounded. Lit into him, too. I'd never known she could say more than a few sentences before then -"

"Neville!"

"When she wasn't toting the Slytherin lines out, Millicent kept absolutely mum about any of her opinions back in school. She could have left us to our own devices, but I think she just got fed up with it all."

Fred nodded. He could see that having been the case. By Millicent's own admission, she'd probably would have done anything to make the Quidditch team in those days. Her seventh year would have been the line drawn in the sand - Draco was never going to put her on the team, and the growing war nullified even the slightest chance of a position on the House team.

"Doesn't seem so shocking, not when you put it all together, now does it?" Luna smiled knowingly.

"No, not really," Fred grinned back at her.

* * *

"What do you mean you can't prosecute her?" the irate little witch pounded her fists against the chest of her lover. "I've brought enough evidence forward for you! And she's been ripped to shreds in the _Prophet_ for the last two days at least!"

"Now, love, a trial held in the court of public opinion means very little these days -"

"Oh, that's shite and you know it! I want that little bitch to pay for her crimes, and I mean for her to suffer!"

"Isn't blaming the strike on her enough?" he countered.

"Not even close."


	14. She's Not Familiar With the Term

Title: Interoffice Stereotypes

Author: Jmaria

Rating: FR-15

Spoilers: Set three years after AU book seven, cannon from OotP

Disclaimer: JK owns all, I am a broke college student. Correction: I own C. More Skeeter and assorted others…

Summary: Plots, allies, a prince in disguise - er,_ princess_.

A/N: My goodness. Unexpected allies in Luna, Neville & Hannah; dishy foreigners, and a new light in Fred's eyes towards her. Not to mention the plot-against-her duo. Hmm, whoever could they be?

_She's Not Familiar With the Term 'Middle Ground', It's All Hers, Dammit_

Millicent didn't even want to know what the four of them would be discussing once she cornered Katie. It didn't matter what anyone knew about her, she was done trying to explain herself to anyone, Fred included. Katie was grinning idiotically when Millicent dragged her into the kitchen.

"Half a dozen influential and international players gathered for a small dinner just to prove that I'm not the horrid beast everyone expects me to be?" Millicent said bluntly. "That why you wanted me all tarted up?"

"No, but it worked out rather well, didn't it?" Katie grinned unapologetically.

"Bell -"

"And you did help me out immensely with Angie. I adore her, but she damn near broke Fred's heart. Stomped on it, actually. And you two were amazing! I haven't seen him this happy -"

"Back it up, Bell," Millicent held a hand up, now seeing that damn glint in her eye. "Nothing's gonna happen between us. First off, he's my employer. Second, he's my landlord - which makes all of this sound like a trash novel setup, mind you. And third, there's -"

"You and Fred -"

"Knock that thought out of your head, Bell. It's not going to happen. Honestly, just because I'm single doesn't mean I'll jump into the bed of the first bloke I see."

"I think you could both use the exercise," Katie said cheekily. "It's an _excellent_ way to burn calories."

"Will you just admit that this was all a set up for good publicity?" Millicent didn't want to talk about this any more. She wanted out of the ridiculous Gryffindor dress and to not think about the looks she'd seen Ansell, Rui _and_ Fred cast at her ample cleavage.

"Fine! Some of it was, but then when I saw Ansell looking at you, I thought maybe -"

"Stop with the matchmaking, Katie," Millicent said it quickly. "I've not got enough on my plate with the strike and the accusations and my mum?"

"We just want you to be happy and sexual -"

"No, we don't even want to _think_ about her being sexual," Marcus boomed, entering the kitchen.

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Flint," Katie rolled her eyes before winking at Millicent. "If she wants to go on and on about thrusting on and licking up the twin, then I think we should encourage her."

Millicent wasn't sure if she should blush or protest at the idea. Marcus's exaggerated gagging had her glowering at him instead. Some part of her brain knew that it was because he saw her as a little sister of sorts, but it still slammed in her gut the thought that no one wanted to think of her as sexual.

"I've had enough of playing the little dancing bear tonight," her voice was quiet, and she turned to the door, only to run right into Fred. "You ready?"

"More than," Fred didn't look at her as he was too busy glaring at Marcus. "Luna wanted to ask you something before we go."

"Right."

* * *

He'd made the mistake of catching Katie's last sentence, and was extremely grateful his pants ran on the larger side. His mind was playing merry havoc with the images her words and that the sight of Millicent earlier in his room had already put there. He'd also caught Marcus's reaction and Millicent's reaction to the reaction. Flint might not have meant to come off as a bastard, but it was obvious the Mil had taken it that way.

"Out of curiosity, Bell, which unlucky bloke was Mil's set-up for the night," Fred worded it purposely, just to hear Millicent's indrawn breath. Good, meant she was listening as he wanted her to. Marcus also glowered at him, realizing how insulting that sounded.

"Unlucky? Any one of them would be lucky to have our Mil," Marcus growled.

"Of course they would," Fred grinned at him, which threw Marcus off more. "Well?"

"Rui initially, but he was being a bit of a twat earlier," Katie huffed out. "Ansell did seem keen, which is why he got to sit next to her."

"Tough luck for them both," Fred shook his head. "Since it's my flat and bed she's going home to."

Millicent stumbled against the door, nearly falling out of the kitchen before she could compose herself. Marcus's mouth dropped open and Katie actually grinned back at him. He gave her a wink and followed Mil out of the kitchen. He impulsively grabbed her hand, and to his everlasting luck she didn't break his hand for the move. She kept her head straight forward, locked on Luna who was smiling at them.

"We're headin' out," Millicent frowned at the younger witch. "You wanted something?"

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Weasley made these especially for you. And I'm digging into who is spreading the rumors," Luna held out a small plate of his mum's biscuits.

"Lu, you don't have to," Millicent's jaw got tight. Fred noticed she didn't eagerly grab for the plate as he would have. She had to know his mum wasn't going to poison her by now. "I know you've got enough with everything-"

"I've made time for it," Luna said rather forcefully, which had Millicent's eyes blinking a bit. Still, she had that same old dreamy smile in place as she continued on. "You know how no one really pays attention to what they say around me. Sometimes, being off in your own little world has its perks."

"Right, then. Thanks. We off, Fred?" Millicent cleared her throat and kept her head up as she marched over to the spinning cloak rack of doom. She gave out a crisp, "Oi, cloak."

Fred gaped as the cloak rack came to a grinding halt and spat out their cloaks. She shook his out to him twice before he moved into action. She waited patiently for him to put his on, and then he snapped to and helped her with hers. They apparated away without another word.

* * *

Blaise stared absentmindedly into his whiskey. He finally had everything he wanted, but it had come with the price of his friendship with Mil. Padma had asked him round for drinks at the end of the work day. Instead of taking her up on the offer he'd been angling for for years, he'd told her that he couldn't because of one last meeting. She'd looked shocked and dejected, and he could honestly say he felt much the same. The owl had arrived just at the end of business that day, but he still sat here waiting in his office for the other participant to arrive. There was a quiet knock at the door which had his head moving up.

"Enter," he said warily. "You've left me waiting long enough tonight, don't you think?"

The door creaked open to reveal a woman wearing a dress the color of dusk. Flowing scarves of pale violets, blues and pinks with bright dashes of oranges and yellows wrapped around the her lithe form, and were a sharp contrast to her flaxen hair and milky skin. Blaise had to stare at that face for several minutes, long enough to miss whatever it was she was saying.

"And he's not even listening to me," she said in a lilting, dreamy voice. "One would think, what with your lady-love's reputation on the line, you'd be paying more attention to the person trying to help her, Zabini."

"Who are you?"

"If you'd been paying attention, you'd have heard me reintroduce myself," she shook her head at him. "But I'll say it again, I'm Luna Lovegood, and I know one of the culprits behind the smear campaign."

"Bloody hell," Blaise tossed back the last of his whiskey.

* * *

Millicent stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps. For some bizarre reason, Fred's comment kept playing in her head. She opened her mouth to beg off staying at the flat, but he beat her to the punch.

"How'd you get the rack to do that?"

"What?" For one minute she thought he was talking about her breasts. Why her mind jumped to that - well, she knew why it did, but it sure as hell shouldn't have. "The _cloak_ rack's what you want to talk about?"

"Yeah. Cause the twin and I spelled it, but Katie tinkered with it and -"

"I might have broken it the first time I chased my cloak around for ten minutes," she tried not to wince at his wince. "I repairo'd it, didn't I? I don't always resort to violence. Just - I had to get to practice and Marcus was laughing his damn fool head off, and don't think that bludger knocked him in the face all on it's own at that practice -"

"You're the reason Marcus got his horrifying teeth fixed? I could kiss you just for that alone."

Millicent's mouth popped open a bit at that, because damn it, now the idea of Fred's mouth on her own was populating her brain. Merlin's beard! Did the man even know what he was doing to her? And why was she letting him?

"Look, maybe I should just see if the Cauldron's got an open room -"

"I don't think you're horribly violent."

"I swear, you making absolutely no sense," Millicent shook her head at him, tendrils of dark hair falling over her face.

"Because of the broken rack and Marcus's broken face. You were provoked, and you've yet to break Draco which shows a lot of restraint. I was asking about the rack because I'm thinking of marketing them. I thought you'd found a counter spell."

And she was the biggest idiot in the entire world. She'd thought he was trying to come up with reasons as to why she was single, and here he was doing bloody market research.

"Hmm, where do you see the market for nuisance cloak racks going?"

"Well, they are entertaining, but if even a little girl can get them to - ooof," Fred grunted as Millicent shoved him gently. "That _violent_ streak is strong in you."

"Says you," Millicent's head shook as she led the way up the steps.

Fred followed her more slowly, enjoying the view. His shoulder radiated from the warmth of her touch. He knew he'd been an idiot to bring up the 'my flat and my bed' comment just by the whole damn play of hers to go to the pub for a room. If he were even inclined to make a play, two days after a very public separation from her long-term boyfriend and only hours after seeing him avoiding his ex would definitely not be the time to do so.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he barely noticed she'd come to a dead stop at the open doorway. She had her wand out of her pocketbook and in hand before he even fumbled his out. Proved not to be worth it, because George jerked the door open and glared at the pair of them.

"Where the hell have you been, Gred?"

Millicent let out a shaky breath and lowered her wand. She shoved past George, who stumbled backwards and glanced back over her shoulder to speak to him.

"I'll be in my room."

George's eyes and mouth popped open. The door had barely closed behind her when George started sputtering. Fred leapt for his brother and half dragged George into George's room. When they'd first moved in, they'd soundproofed the rooms for obvious reasons. Other than the night that George had proposed to Allie, Fred had never been more grateful for that fact.

"_Her_ room. That's _your_ room, Fred," George's eyes narrowed. "Are you shagging her?"

"Bloody hell, George, it's not any of your business if I am!"

"She's our frightening employee, of _course_ it's my business!"

"You shagged Allie all the time she worked in the shop," Fred hissed.

"Why are you hissing? She can't hear you through my spell," George snapped.

"Your spell was utter shite the first time you put it up. I had to triple reinforce it. Nice topic change, but it doesn't change the facts that you slept with Allie repeatedly while you were her boss. As much as anyone can boss Allie, that is."

"So what? _Allie's_ not a homicidal maniac."

"Neither is Millicent!"

"I don't see the attraction to -"

"I swear to Merlin, George, do not finish that statement. You are my other half and we've never been in a row, but you are toeing a very thin line," Fred said so darkly that George actually drew back.

"Has she bewitched you?"

"God, no! She's a nice girl with an amazing rack and a killer right hook who's going through a tough time. It's called compassion, and yes, I actually have some," Fred shook his head at his twin. Honestly, he'd spent less time with Millicent than Fred had so he couldn't be expected to see the good qualities in her. "I saw Angelina today."

"Bloody hell." All of the fight went out of George.

"She's looking good, Roger Davies was all over her and none of it fazed me in the least. You know why?"

"Because you finally realized that she's an utter -"

"George, that girl in my room took my mind off of everything but her. Zabini's trampled on her heart and through her pain, she made sure I didn't feel any when I saw my ex," Fred grinned at his brother. "And she had Katie's cloak rack _whimpering in submission_."

"No!" George's jaw dropped.


End file.
